Deep is the Darkness of A Starless Night
by InfinityStar
Summary: A murder with an unusual MO leads the detectives into a dark world where Eames fears losing Goren forever.
1. Encroaching Darkness

**A/N: This takes place in May 2004, immediately after Great Barrier.  
**

* * *

**_Returning violence for violence only multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.  
--Martin Luther King, Jr._**

_1:54 AM Saturday, May 22, 2004  
Crown Heights, Brooklyn_

_Another wet, miserable night,_ Robert Goren thought as he got out of the cab into the rain. He paid the cabbie and trudged toward the flashing lights, zipping his jacket against the rain and wind. _Just great._ The rain would wash away more trace than they could likely afford to lose.

He pulled out his badge and showed it to the patrolman who challenged him. He continued toward the small group of people gathered near the body that had drawn them all out into the rain. The coroner's wagon was already there, but the body had not been moved. A tall woman in a dark raincoat intercepted him. "Major Case?"

He nodded. "Detective Goren. My partner..." He glanced around the area. "She's not here yet."

He didn't expect Eames to be there. The scene was much closer to his Brooklyn home than it was to her place in Queens. The body lay just inside the mouth of an alley between a Chinese restaurant and a pharmacy. Just after midnight, a clerk from the pharmacy had stepped out into the soggy night for a cigarette and discovered the body. Two hours had passed since the discovery of the body as two precincts disputed jurisdiction. The owner of the restaurant, who lived above his store, feared that the presence of the body would have a negative impact on his business, so he called his uncle, who worked at the Chinese embassy. The uncle called the mayor, who initiated a chain of phone calls that ended with Goren and Eames, and there was Goren, standing in the rain as a wet, resentful detective filled him in on the little they knew about the body. He was not quite sure if the detective who turned the case over to him resented relinquishing the case because it had initially been hers or if she was relieved to turn the case over, particularly given the cold, rainy weather. It was a miserable night to be out.

Goren approached the body, which had been covered by a tarp. After carefully folding back the tarp, he squatted beside the body, rubbing his temple in an attempt to relieve the dull ache behind his eyes. He and Eames weren't on call tonight—at least, they hadn't been until Uncle Quan called in his favor. He looked at his watch. Two AM. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then withdrew a flashlight from his jacket pocket and began his examination of the body.

Goren's ability to hyperfocus often served him well, and tonight it was a particular blessing. As he immersed himself in the details of the crime scene, he was able to chase away his discomfort--the ache in his head, the cold, wet chill of the rain, the thoughts that haunted his waking hours.

"Whose idea was it to get himself offed on a night like this?"

Drawn from his thoughts, Goren smiled at the familiar sarcastic tone. "I'm sure that wasn't her plan when she began her evening, Eames."

She walked around the body and squatted opposite him. He glanced at her, then did a double take. She had definitely been out when she got the call from Deakins. Still wearing a dress and dark slingbacks, she had not taken the time to change. Her hair was gathered at the back of her head, twisted and pinned up, and she wore more make-up than he was accustomed to seeing on her face. She pulled her raincoat more closely around her. After two false starts, he said, "I could have handled this, Eames. You didn't have to interrupt your date."

She shrugged, although she'd regretted calling it an evening. "Since we didn't know what we had, the captain wanted us to be miserable out here together."

Unspoken between them, but almost palpable, was the fact that after the last case, she wanted to make sure he had his bearings back. He didn't know whether it was concern for him or for the integrity of the case that brought her out. He turned his attention back to the body without commenting.

He wondered how much she sensed of his lingering guilt over the death of Ella Miyazaki, over his failure, once again, to bring Nicole Wallace to justice. The ache behind his eyes was back. Absently, he rubbed his temple.

Eames didn't miss his reaction to the unspoken truth in her explanation. She and Deakins were both worried about him, but she didn't want to make a fuss. He didn't need that. He needed normalcy, but she wasn't quite sure how to go about giving it to him. She got nothing from him to tell her what he was thinking or feeling. He was a master at playing his emotions very close. All she knew for certain was that every time Nicole Wallace slithered back into their lives, she took a piece of Goren with her when she left.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke first, deflecting her concern with observations of the crime scene and the victim. "Female, late 20s. The angle of her head...her neck is broken...but there's an odd injury to her throat." He brushed the victim's hair from her throat with gloved fingers, pulling strands of hair from the bloody wound. "Not a ligature...or a slash...more like, uh...like a bite...but I don't think it's an animal bite."

"So, someone broke her neck and then bit her throat?"

"Or vice versa. Rodgers will be able to tell us if the bite is human or not, and if it happened pre- or post-mortem. The rain has washed away any blood that would have pooled if it was a pre-mortem wound, if this is where she was injured and died."

Sensing his frustration, she stood and looked around. "Lucky break for the killer, this rain."

Goren also looked around, watching the crime scene techs search for trace evidence that was likely not there. His mind, however, was no longer on the crime scene. He was searching for motivation on his way to determining what kind of person could have committed this crime. Lost in his head, he walked away from the body, eyes scanning the puddles and mud surrounding them, but there was nothing to find.

Eames followed him, pulling her coat tighter around her as the rainfall got heavier. They went into the pharmacy, where the clerk who found the body was sitting in the back, sucking on an oxygen mask as a paramedic took his blood pressure. Bennie Omoro was a thin man, dark-skinned with delicate, effeminate features to match his gestures. Goren tipped at the waist to catch the young man's eye. "Mr. Omoro? I'm Detective Goren. This is Detective Eames. We need to talk to you about what you saw."

Drawing another deep breath of oxygen, Omoro nodded. "She was just...laying there. It was dreadful, the poor thing," he said, his voice marked by a thick Jamaican accent.

"How long was it between breaks for you?"

"I clocked in at seven. I step out for a few puffs every couple of hours, so it was probably around 9 or 9:30 the last time I went out there." He dabbed at his eyes. "Usually, my boyfriend stops by when I take my midshift break, but he got called in to work, so I took my break a little later than usual. It was just after midnight and...and there she was!" Over the last three words, his voice raised an octave, wavered, and he started weeping again. "Oh, that poor girl!"

Goren looked at Eames, then back at Omoro. "Did you notice anything else? A car? Another person?"

"No. Once I saw that poor girl, I just freaked. I didn't even notice the rain."

Eyebrows arched, Goren looked at his partner again. He saw her struggle to keep a straight face as she pulled out her card, handing it to the clerk. "If you think of anything, Mr. Omoro, please give us a call. Even the smallest clue may be very helpful to us."

Omoro took the card and nodded. "Okay, honey, I will."

Goren and Eames left the pharmacy and returned to the alley, where the coroner's team was taking their readings and preparing the body for transport. Rodgers looked up as the detectives approached. "Body temperature indicates she was killed within the last six hours." Anticipating Goren's volley of questions, she added, "I have to get her back to the morgue before I can answer anything else. See me in the morning."

Goren stepped past the body into the alley and looked around. Eames followed him. "What are you looking for?"

"I'll know it if I see it."

She followed the beam of his flashlight, waiting for something out of the ordinary to jump out at them, but nothing did. Her thoughts returned to the victim and she asked, "After killing her, why would the perp bite her? Some kind of fetish?"

"Maybe. We'll see what Rodgers finds."

He looked at her as she shivered and pulled her coat more tightly around her. Without saying anything, he unzipped his jacket and slipped it off, draping it over her shoulders. She began to protest, but he moved away from her, continuing his exploration of the alley. Finding nothing, he finally said, "We're done here. We can't do anything more without Rodgers' report."

The body was being loaded into the ME's wagon as they left the alley and Eames looked up and down the street. "Where are you parked?"

"About half a block from my place. I took a cab." He looked around until he spotted her car, and he walked in that direction. Stopping beside her car, he said, "You should get out of the rain." His eyes quickly scanned her from head to toe. "You look nice. I'll see you in the morning."

He walked away, slicking his hand through his wet hair and wiping it on his jeans. "Bobby," she called after him. "Your jacket..."

He waved his hand without stopping or turning. Eames watched him with concerned eyes. He seemed out of sorts, but she couldn't place a finger on it. Could Nicole Wallace still be haunting him? She almost chased after him, but something held her back. She watched him until he turned the corner, out of sight.

She continued to stand in the rain, troubled, until one of the uniformed officers approached her. "Detective? Is everything all right?"

Drawn from her thoughts, she turned to look at him. "Everything is fine, thank you."

She pulled out her keys and got into her car. Halfway home, her concern for her partner finally overwhelmed her desire for the warmth of her bed, and she turned around, returning to Brooklyn.


	2. Heat of the Night

**A/N: Just for clarification, I am of the school that believes Goren and Eames' partnership began in 1999 or 2000. By 2001, when the series starts, they already have an uncomfortable year or two under their belts as partners. I've actually discovered, by finding the years that belong to some of the dates we're given in episode timestamps, that a couple of cases date back to 1998. (Yes, I know...I had a slow night one night...) You can email me if you are interested in the dates and I can send you my list. (I know...geek. But I'm happily a Goren geek, so it's all good.)  
**

* * *

Eames parked her car outside Goren's apartment house and looked up at the windows of his third floor apartment. His living room light was lit, so she got out of the car and went into the building.

He opened the door after her second round of knocking. His hair was still damp, his shirt open, and his shoes were off. He was holding a glass tumbler as he stood in the doorway looking at her. "Eames. What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you."

His brow furrowed, but he stepped away from the door and let her in. "It's late," he commented as he walked to the recliner in the living room and sat down. "You should have gone home."

She slipped off his jacket and hung it by the door, placing her raincoat on the hook beside it. Goren watched her walk into the room, staring, his mouth open. She wore an emerald green dress that wrapped her in a shimmering hug, though it was open to expose her well-defined, muscular back. The two-inch heel of her shoes gave her hips an enticing sway when she walked.

He recovered before she sat on the couch. Taking a deep drink, he set the tumbler on the table beside the recliner, under a good quality reading lamp. She could tell he spent a lot of time in that chair. "There was no need for you to come over," he said. "I'm fine."

She remembered the expression on his face, partially hidden by the shadows of the warehouse where Nicole had taken Ella Miyazaki's life and staged her own death. Although she had her doubts, somehow, Goren knew Nicole wasn't dead. Until they had irrefutable proof, he would never accept it. One thing Eames had learned over the past five years was to trust her partner's gut feelings, and it made her queasy to think that Nicole would be back. Even though she was chomping at the bit as much as he was to finally see Nicole behind bars, she dreaded her return. Her appearances and subsequent disappearances did something to Goren that she hated to see. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but Nicole caused him to stumble and it always took him time to regain his stride and return to normal. _Well, normal for him, _she thought. She almost smiled, but the look on his face chased away her amusement. He hadn't had enough time.

"You don't seem fine to me," she answered, deciding to be direct.

Silently, he agreed with her. He could still see Ella's young face and hear her death scream every time he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He imagined her expression when Nicole grabbed her throat and squeezed the life out of her. Loving Nicole was a fatal mistake.

Two days ago, he and Eames had delivered the news of Ella's death to her parents, and their reactions haunted him as well—her father, stoic, her mother trying but failing as she collapsed against her husband in tears. More lives destroyed in the wake of Nicole Wallace's life.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it when he changed his mind. He nodded his head toward her. "Hot date?"

That was so like him, changing the subject when it got uncomfortable. She always knew when she struck a chord or came too close to hitting a nerve. He never opened up to her, but she always knew when she was close. She would play his game for a little while, but then she would bring it back around and try to worm her way in a little closer to the heart he protected so tenaciously. "Not really," she answered. "My brother asked me to go to the Annual Fireman's Ball with a friend of his."

He nodded. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes. It was a great time."

"You should have called me. You didn't have to respond tonight."

"We have the same job, Goren, and the same responsibilities toward it."

He shrugged. "There can be exceptions. I would have covered for you."

"Oh, that would have gone over well. 'She couldn't be there because she was on a date.' I'd never put myself in that position, or let you do it, either."

He raised his hands and withdrew from the edge of an argument. "All right. I'm sorry I suggested it."

Realizing she was being too defensive, she also stepped back. "No, I appreciate the gesture, but I'll do my job."

"I would never expect anything else from you," he muttered with a frown.

She paused, letting a heavy silence hang between them. This time she was the one to step away from the discussion, deliberately bringing it back around to him. She looked at the tumbler on the table beside him. "What's going on with you?"

He was caught offguard by the sudden change in direction of the conversation. He followed her gaze to the near-empty tumbler, then looked at his hands. He was spinning off kilter, as he always did after dealing with Nicole. The difference this time was Eames, sitting here in his living room, challenging him. She'd never done that before. He suddenly felt closer to Eames, something he had been resisting for a long time. She'd vaulted over another barrier, heading directly toward the heart and soul of him, and that made him deeply uncomfortable. No one got that close...no one, but Nicole.

He picked up the tumbler and drained it, shuddering at the thought that someone like Nicole could get so close while a woman like Eames had to fight for every inch. He wouldn't look at her immediately. Finally. he raised his head and studied her. He saw nothing but concern in her face, and that encouraged him. "I close my eyes," he said. "And I see Ella. I can't get away from...the role we played in her death. We sent her into the lion's den...and Nicole got away."

"Do you really think that? Rodgers said..."

He shook his head. "I know what Rodgers said, but I know Nicole. She's out there, running free, and the Miyazakis are burying their daughter tomorrow. We had a hand in that."

"Ella went willingly into that lion's den, Bobby. She was close to Nicole..."

"But she never accepted what Nicole was capable of, even after she saw what she'd done to her little girl. She was trapped. We never turned her, and then she ran into Nicole's rage. She never had a chance."

Eames turned his words over in her head, then got up from the couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table, directly in front of him. In an uncharacteristic move that took him by surprise, she reached out and closed her hands around his. "You cannot bear the burden of guilt for the things Nicole does," she said. "You cannot let her destroy you that way. Ella was no innocent. Remember Zack Thaler? Maybe Ella didn't kill him, but she let Nicole get away with doing it. I accept that Ella didn't know the extent of what Nicole is capable of, but she did know she'd crossed the line. Nicole did not drag her kicking and screaming to the other side. She knew what she was doing, if not what she was getting herself into. But none of that was your fault. We took a calculated risk, sending Ella back to Nicole with a wire. We gambled and lost. But Nicole would have killed her, anyway. You know that. And when Nicole surfaces again, we have enough to get her for Ella's murder."

Under other circumstances, he would have withdrawn his hands from hers, but she was reaching out to him in an effort to soothe his conscience, and he appreciated her effort. He turned his hands over and closed them around hers. He was vulnerable and she seemed to sense it. He hated being in this state, but Wallace always left him with raw, open wounds, and Eames finally felt she was in a place to reach out to him, a salve to his pain. In her own way, Eames was as guarded with herself as he was, and he appreciated the sacrifice she made in reaching out to him.

Like the gentleman he was, he raised her hands to his lips and placed a tender kiss on each one. "Thank you, Eames. It's very late. You should stay the rest of the night."

She was touched by his offer. His home was his sanctuary from the world and he didn't lightly open it to another person, not even to her. "Thanks, Bobby, but I need to get this stuff off my face and change into something that lets the blood flow."

"I have soap and water, and I can give you a t-shirt to sleep in. I'll even give you the bed. I've spent many nights on that couch."

She squeezed his hands. "It's a sweet offer, thank you. But I really should go home." She leaned to the side so she could see his face. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Don't worry about me, Eames. I guess I'll see you in a couple of hours."

She didn't move. "I do worry," she said in earnest. "I worry because I care. Please don't dismiss how I feel."

"I...I didn't mean to do that."

"Then tell me, honestly, that you're okay."

He searched her face. "I would, if I could."

Her eyes clouded with concern, and she felt fury building inside her toward Nicole for doing this to her gentle partner. She released one of his hands and slipped hers along his neck as she rested her forehead against his. Tears of hot rage burned her eyes and slid free, running down her cheeks. He raised his free hand to her face and gently wiped her tears away. "Eames...?"

She blinked hard. She was not a person who often gave in to emotion or impulse, but right then, she couldn't resist either. She had no idea if there was anything she could say that would make him feel better, but there was something she could do. She'd never allowed herself to consciously think of him as anything but her partner, but she had no control over her subconscious, which ruled her dreams. She was about to attempt making her happiest dreams come true, praying it would not blow up in her face.

She brushed her mouth over his. When he didn't launch himself out of the chair, knocking her to the floor, she returned her mouth to his and lingered.

He made no move to end the kiss until she drew back. She trailed her fingers along his neck and across his cheek to his lips. She saw the question in his eyes and chose not to answer. She smiled, kissed him again and whispered, "I'll see you in a few hours."

Rising, she walked toward the door and reached for her raincoat. She didn't hear him move, so she was caught completely by surprise when he grabbed her and spun her around, placing a hard, deep kiss on her mouth. She stiffened momentarily, then relaxed and responded to the heat of his passion.

Her dreams couldn't hold a candle to reality.


	3. Pursuing the Who and the Why

Eames rolled over in her sleep. Warm and comfortable, she slept soundly. Physically spent and emotionally exhausted, she'd drifted off quickly in a loving, though unfamiliar embrace. She rolled again as her mind drifted toward wakefulness. Drawing a deep breath, she stretched from head to toe and yawned. Her eyes perused the room, which she did not remember from the previous night. Aside from the big, comfortable bed, there wasn't a lot of furniture. A bedside nightstand, a large dresser, and a comfortable chair beneath a nice reading lamp pretty well finished off the room's décor. She was surprised not to find a Lucien Freud painting hanging over his bed. Even more surprising, she found nothing but empty space. The walls were bare. No paintings, no pictures, nothing to personalize the room and make it his own.

She sat up, finding a t-shirt draped over the foot of the bed. Rising, she pulled it on over her naked body and went in search of her elusive partner. The welcome scent of fresh coffee filled the apartment, along with the lingering, familiar scent of soap and cologne. In front of the coffee pot, she found a cherry danish and a note. _Be back shortly_ was all it said.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, took the danish and sat at the small table in the alcove sectioned out of kitchen space for dining purposes. Her thoughts drifted, and she smiled as her body flushed at the memories that floated through her head.

He had started out rough, but after a struggle to control himself, he'd become very gentle. Gentle, however, was not what she wanted, not immediately. She had no trouble coaxing him back toward rough play, but she could still tell he was holding back. Nothing she did could loosen his control of himself, but that was her only disappointment. She made up her mind to work on that. If this was the beginning of something between them, she wanted all of him, or it would not work, not for her.

She heard the door and rose to greet him in the living room. He set her overnight bag by the couch. "You said you kept a bag in the trunk. I brought it up for you."

In his other hand, he held a small box, which he held out to her. She took it, puzzled. "What's this?"

"Just...something for you."

Nestled in the box was a glass ball set on a wooden stand. Inside the ball was a perfect red rose. "What is this for?"

"It's for you, that's all...to say thank you."

"For what?"

He stepped closer, and when she didn't step away or show any sign of fear or regret, he leaned in and kissed her, softly, tenderly. The fingers of his left hand buried in her hair, and his right hand settled on her waist to draw her against him. She set the box down, then melted and surrendered to him.

* * *

Nestled into his side, Eames was close to dozing off when he kissed her and murmured, "We should be going."

Making a soft noise of protest, she said, "It's Saturday. Rodgers and the body will wait for us."

"But Ella won't," he replied as he slid from the bed.

Ella...? The funeral...right... She wasn't aware he'd planned to attend her funeral. "Bobby..."

"It's okay if you'd rather not go. I can meet you at 1 PP later."

"Do you really think Nicole will be there?"

He hesitated, as though the thought hadn't occurred to him. "I...I don't know. I just...I wanted to pay my respects to Ella and her family. I feel..."

When he trailed off as he laid his suit over the footboard, she slid from the bed and stepped into a hug. "You feel responsible," she completed his thought.

"Partially, I do, but not completely. You...You don't have to..."

Reaching up, she placed her hand against his mouth. "Let's hurry up and shower so we're not late."

His brown eyes darkened and his mouth relaxed into a small smile as he let her lead him into the bathroom. One way or another, she was determined to wash Nicole Wallace out of his head, and he was willing to let her try.

* * *

Elizabeth Rodgers had expected Goren and Eames much earlier, surprised that Goren wasn't breathing down her neck as she performed the autopsy. She looked at the clock. "I expected you with the sun."

"Ella Miyazaki's funeral was this morning," Goren answered as he bent over the body to look more closely at the victim's neck wound.

Rodgers watched him, surprised by his obviously lighter demeanor. Gone was the dark, brooding leviathan from the night before. He was animated as he wandered around the body, returning once more to the throat wound. He drew circles in the air above the injury. "Is it human?"

"The bite or the victim?"

He looked up sharply. His boyish face was both interested and amused at her answer, and Rodgers smiled at the change in him. She had not missed the effect Nicole Wallace had on Goren's psyche, how far down the devil woman dragged him when she played her malicious games with him. He seemed to have recovered in record time following this last encounter, and she was surprised. She glanced at Eames, appreciating the petite detective's difficult role of playing intercessor between Goren and the world at large. She wondered how Eames managed to draw her brooding partner from his funk, deciding ultimately that some things were best left to speculation.

Goren's face relaxed into an easy smile. "Either," he answered gamely.

She laughed. As annoying as he could sometimes be, she honestly liked Goren. "Both are human, detective. But this bite is interesting." She pulled a binocular dissecting scope over to the table and positioned it above the body, projecting the magnified image onto a computer screen so both detectives could examine it.

The two detectives focused on the image. Rodgers picked up a probe, gently reflecting back the tissue to reveal what she had found. Goren's head cocked, his brow creased in concentration. Two furrowed channels ran along the deeper tissue of the neck. "The macerated tissue above..." he began.

"...was hiding that injury," Eames finished. "But what made it?"

"That's a good question," Rodgers answered. "Goren?"

He shook his head. "Did the same person who made these also tear out her throat?"

"I would say yes. I took samples from different areas of the wound. I expect the saliva to be the same."

"And these furrows?"

"I don't know what to make of them. I took biopsies and samples for cross-section and toxicology."

Goren looked at the medical examiner. "What else did you find?"

Rodgers got the feeling, as she always did, that he knew things about the body she had yet to discover and he was testing her. Working with Goren always challenged her, and she appreciated that. Because of him, she had to keep a sharp edge, and that made her better at her job than she might otherwise be. As annoyed as she sometimes got with him, she liked to watch him work a corpse. He would have made an excellent coroner. His eyes missed very little, he was extremely thorough without taking days to gather his information and nothing that could possibly be found inside an adult body or out of it bothered him.

She answered, "She had a good meal, shortly before she died. Salad, chicken, a vegetable medley, wine...I doubt she ate alone. There are no defensive wounds, no bruises. That throat wound occurred at the time of death or shortly after. It was not a contributing factor to her death."

"So what did cause her death?" Eames asked.

"Ex-sanguination, although I'm not sure where the blood went or how it got out of her. She had no other injuries, no internal bleeding."

"What about time of death?"

"Shortly before midnight, probably about the time she was left in the alley. She was found quickly." She looked down at the body. "I'll let you know when I have more infor...mation..."

She trailed off as she and Eames watched Goren do another slow circuit of the body, leaning down closer to the woman's chest. He sniffed for a moment before moving to her face. His face was a mask of concentration. "He would have made a great bloodhound," Rodgers remarked to Eames.

Goren lifted his gaze to the women. "Obsession."

"Yes, we know," Eames responded.

Confusion crossed his face. "You know...what?"

"That you have a tendency toward obsession."

He considered her words for a moment, his thoughts derailed. He quickly set them back on track. "No. _Obsession_, the perfume." His index finger drew a circle in the air about her breasts, then settled into a straight line, up and down, between them.. "She wore it here." He paused to take a sniff of her wrist. "And on her wrists." His hand wandered over the Y-incision Rodgers had made down her belly. "Probably straight down..." He stopped between her navel and her bikini line. "...to here."

He returned to the victim's head. "You said wine. I, uh, I smelled something else."

Rodgers allowed him more latitude than she gave anyone else, particularly since his ability to examine the body at the scene the night before had been so limited. She was thorough and meticulous, but even at that, Goren often picked up on small but ultimately important things, or he gave something a different, but equally valid, interpretation. He looked at her. "There was a small amount of hard liquor in her stomach, yes?"

She nodded with a small smile. "Yes. Gin and vermouth...an after-dinner cocktail, I presume."

He studied the woman's face. "Nicely applied make-up..." he said as he tipped his head to look at Eames.

She nodded in agreement. "Her clothes were not expensive, but not cheap, either. Something in the same range I would wear," she said as she walked to the counter where the victim's clothes lay. She sorted through the pile, then lifted the woman's lacy red bra and panties. "She wasn't wearing these to go watch the Mets play."

Rodgers nodded. "She was hoping whoever she was with would get to see that lingerie."

Goren lifted the victim's left hand and examined it. "Did he?"

With another brief smile, she replied, "Presumably, yes. There was spermicide in the vaginal cavity, but no semen, so they used a condom. No bruising or tears, no signs it wasn't consensual."

Goren moved to examine her feet. "She had a recent pedicure and manicure," he said as he held her foot. His thumb moved over her big toe to her instep. "No callouses. She didn't wear heels too often."

"She was five-eleven," Rodgers said. "She'd need a date your height before she'd wear heels."

Goren nodded, looking up and down the body. "One hundred and thirty pounds?"

"One thirty-seven."

He bent at the waist near her knee. "More perfume. She put a lot of time and effort into preparing for this date. It was a special date--maybe a first one?"

Neither woman debated that conclusion. It made sense. He looked at the woman's face again. "Any leads on identification?"

"Not yet. No hits on her prints. We're running her DNA through the databases."

Goren slowly ran his gaze up and down the victim's naked body. Then he did one more circuit of the body before he nodded, "Call us as soon as you know anything."

Rodgers nodded. "Count on it."

He followed Eames out of the morgue.

* * *

As they got into the elevator, Eames said, "Snakebite."

He shifted his gaze toward her, the corners of his mouth raised in a small smile. "Snakebite?" he repeated. "You think a snake bit her?"

She jabbed his side sharply. "Don't be obtuse. Of course it wasn't a snake, but that's what that hidden injury looked like."

"A snakebite," he mused. "That would have to be one hell of a big snake."

She knew from the look on his face that he was giving the suggestion serious consideration. She felt a need to divert his train of thought; she hadn't been serious. She should have known better than to think out loud that way, knowing how open-minded he was about almost everything. "Like a basilisk?" she asked, teasing.

His smile broadened a little. "A basilisk," he mused. "Not exactly what I was thinking."

"But you do have something in mind."

He nodded slowly. "Something, yes."

"Something I'm not going to like," she asserted. That was always how it was when she had to pull teeth to get anything out of him.

He shrugged. "Something you might not believe, in any event."

"Don't tell me this is some kind of fairy tale and we're looking for dragons and unicorns."

He laughed, a laugh of quiet amusement she'd always found endearing. "A fairy tale? No, Eames. There are no princesses to be rescued from fire-breathing dragons." His smile faded some. "A nightmare might be more accurate."

"What's traipsing through that head of yours?"

He leaned a little closer, his voice a bare whisper. "You mean besides you?"

He caught her completely by surprise and her cheeks reddened. She smacked his arm as the elevator doors opened and she marched off to their desks. Wearing a self-satisfied grin, he followed her, keeping a discrete eye on the annoyed sway of her hips. He made a mental note to annoy her more often as they got off the elevator.

He sat down opposite her, still amused. She focused her attention on her computer as he folded his hands on top of the file folder in the middle of his desk and leaned forward. "So what do you know about basilisks, Eames?"

Her cheeks reddened a little more and her hands hesitated above the keyboard. She raised her eyes to look at him over the computer screen. "A couple of my older nieces and nephews are really into Harry Potter. The last movie featured a basilisk."

His expression was open and interested. "I, uhm, I didn't see it, but I read the book." He diverted his attention to the file beneath his hands. " I don't think we're looking for something out of Harry Potter."

She crumpled a paper into a ball and threw it at him. "I didn't think we were, ass."

He laughed finally, and her irritation faded. She was glad to see him settling back to his normal self. Unbidden, her mind wandered, back in time a few hours, and she felt her entire body flush with desire. Returning her attention to her computer, she sought some kind of distraction from her roaming thoughts. She forced herself to focus on the king of serpents. "A direct stare can kill," she said randomly.

He looked up from the file, which contained the photos from the crime scene and preliminary reports from the lab. His mind had moved on. "A...what?"

"A direct stare can kill," she repeated. "From a basilisk."

He nodded his head slowly. "Yes. That's what they say." He tilted his head a little to the left. "I still don't think that's what killed her."

She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the captain's approach. "All right. What do we have?"

"Besides a dead girl, nothing much," Eames answered. "No ID and a cause of death we can't explain."

"That gaping hole in her throat might be a good place to start."

Goren leaned back in his chair and replied, "It would be, if it wasn't a post-mortem injury."

"So this mutt kills her, and _then_ he rips out her throat?"

"Apparently. According to her autopsy, she bled to death, but she has no wounds to account for that blood loss, no internal bleeding, no way to explain it. There wasn't enough blood at the scene for her to have been killed there, regardless of how the blood got out of her body."

"Wouldn't the rain have something to do with that?"

With a shake of his head, Goren answered, "The rain would not have washed away four-and-a-half quarts of blood. There would still have been plenty of blood around, if she'd been killed there. According to Dr. Rodgers, she died shortly before she was found, so she was killed and dumped right away."

Deakins frowned. "So somewhere in or near Crown Heights is a gallon of blood waiting for us to find it?"

Goren tapped his pen on the folder in front of him, then looked at the captain. "It should be that simple. The rain would definitely have washed the blood away by now, and if she was killed indoors, clean-up is finished, I'm sure."

Eames grabbed a pencil from the mug between their desks. "So we're stuck with a freshly washed dump scene, courtesy of Mother Nature, and a body that's holding tight to her secrets."

Her partner nodded. "If we get no hits on DNA or prints, we'll have to go to the media, see if anyone recognizes her."

Deakins let out a slow breath. "Let me know and we'll release a sketch. I've already received calls from the Chinese embassy and the mayor's office. Mr. Quan is concerned about his nephew's livelihood. The papers have already sniffed out the discovery of the body and he does not want it associated with the restaurant. So try to keep a lid on it, and let's move it into the solved pile as fast as we can."

"We'll do our best, captain," Eames assured him.

As the captain walked off, Goren returned his attention to the photos. The illuminated images revealed much more than the naked eye had been able to see in the rainy night.

Forgetting their teasing banter about snakes, dragons and basilisks, Eames asked, "Do you have any ideas about this guy?"

"No. Not yet."

"Do you think this throat wound was a rage thing?"

He shuffled to the pictures of the victim. "No. I don't get any rage from this killing. There are no other marks on her, no bruising, pre- or post-mortem. If it were rage, we would see bruises, lacerations, maybe bone fractures."

"Don't tell me he tore out her throat in a fit of passion."

"No. She would have been alive for that. I think this was...calculated, done for a reason. Perhaps some kind of ritual. When we figure out the reason, we'll be closer to figuring out the killer's mind."

"A religious ritual?"

"Perhaps. Or some kind of personal ritual. He may not have meant to kill her."

He returned his attention to the photographs as she slowly shook her head. Getting inside the heads of the monsters they pursued was so important to him, and that worried her. Like most cops, she just wanted to find the perpetrators and put them behind bars, but he was further driven by a need to understand them. For reasons she could not fathom, it was important to him to get into their heads, to learn what caused them to do the horrible things they did. As they sought the 'who', he applied the same drive and determination toward understanding the 'why'.


	4. No Holds Barred

**A/N: Just some fun before the case takes a dark turn....**

* * *

As the day wore on, Eames noticed that her partner began to bury himself more deeply in the file on his desk. To him, there was no such thing as a senseless crime or one without motive. No one did anything ''just because." People were always driven to whatever they did by a motive of some kind, good or bad, and he did not handle it well when he could not find that motive.

Deakins had gone home to enjoy time with his daughters, who were home from school, and the squad room was quiet. Only a few busy souls sat at their desks with active files. Goren was studying the photos from the scene with enough intensity to still the perpetual motion of his body, and Eames decided he'd gone far enough down the path into this perp's mind for the night.

Rising from her chair, she walked around the desks and slid the file from in front of him. He sat back in his chair and looked at her, his expression one of mixed confusion and protest. "Not a word," she warned. "I'm hungry and I swear I'll take a bite out of _you_ if we don't leave right now to get something to eat."

His expression changed and lightened. After looking around, he turned his attention back to her and, with a mischievous grin, answered, "Is that a promise?"

"Only if it gets us out of here faster."

He began to gather the file, but she took it away from him. "Oh, no, you don't. I am not spending the night looking at crime scene photos. This file stays in your desk."

When she saw the protest brewing in his eyes, she leaned a little closer. "Either the file goes home with you, or I do. Not both."

She was pleased when he put no thought into making the choice. The file went into his desk drawer and he was ready to leave. With a satisfied smile, she fell in step beside him and they walked away from their desks.

As they stepped onto the elevator, Goren said, "I asked Macy to prepare a sketch of the victim to release to the media on Monday."

She nodded her approval and then said, "New ground rule: when I haven't eaten all day on a day we should have off, do not discuss case details until I have food in my stomach."

He seemed to give that consideration. "When can I discuss it with you?"

She gave her answer equal consideration. "Pillow talk," she answered. "Unless I'm too tired."

"How likely is that?"

"That depends on you," she answered.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I _really_ enjoy the exhaustion that can overtake any kind of pillow talk. I can also make things very uncomfortable for you before we make it home, so if I were you, I'd leave work at work, unless it's something vital to solving the case."

"But..."

"No buts," she warned.

To emphasize that she meant business, she slipped her hand inside his jacket and dragged her nails across his back, just above his belt. He closed his eyes, gasped and, with great effort, forced his knees not to buckle. He growled her name as the doors opened into the parking garage, which was mostly deserted. She looked over her shoulder at him, her expression almost innocent. "What's wrong?"

His jaw was tight as he followed her to her car. As she turned to walk alongside the car to the driver's door, he leaned in and answered, "Don't think I can't make you just as miserable before we get home."

She smiled. She'd set off some kind of competitive spark that promised to be interesting. "You're on," she said, bumping him with her hip. "No holds barred."

"Really?"

She turned her face toward him and uttered two syllables that set him on fire. "Really."

* * *

Had she known how skilled he was at firing up her deepest desires, Eames would not have been quite so ready to issue her challenge to him. He wasted nothing. Every touch, every movement, every word---all done and said in such a way that by the end of dinner, she wished she'd chosen a restaurant closer to either of their homes, wanting nothing more than to get him someplace private. Her own plans to torture him fell by the wayside in the wake of his attack.

He was surprised when they stepped out of the restaurant and she handed him the keys. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked innocently.

"Go stuff it," she growled, anxious to get home and not caring whose home it was, as long as it was close.

He leaned in and whispered into her ear. "That's exactly what I plan to do."

With a barely suppressed tremor, she made a noise and stalked off toward the car. With a self-satisfied grin, he followed. Her plan had backfired on her and he knew it. What he hadn't completely expected was the effect the evening had on him as well. He was just as anxious to get home as she was; he just had a slightly better handle on it—but not for long.

"My place or yours," he asked as he slid behind the wheel.

"Yours is closer," she answered. "Just move it."

He'd never seen her so worked up, and he couldn't remember ever being so damn turned on by a woman. He struggled mightily to keep his mind on the road, and not on her. as he drove through quiet neighborhood streets much faster than he normally would. It was late, and the streets were mostly deserted. Then...Eames decided to play a very dangerous game with him.

Angry with herself for letting him get to her, she decided to take one more shot at fulfilling her promise to make him miserable for at least the rest of the ride home. That would give her a small degree of satisfaction. She rested her head against his shoulder. He turned his head and tenderly kissed hers. She hadn't expected that and it caught her offguard for a moment. Then she snuggled a little closer and slid her hand over his thigh. Another surprise awaited her as she began to gently rub him. She couldn't explain why she hadn't expected him to be aroused by his own games, but he was, and that pleased her.

"Eames..." he said softly, shifting his hips with a quiet groan.

His tone carried both warning and plea. He wanted her to keep going because it felt so good, but he needed her to stop for the same reason. She ignored him.

After running two stop signs and almost drifting into a parked car, he stopped the car in the middle of the street and shifted into park. Gently removing her hand from his lap, he leaned toward her and said, "If you don't stop, one of two things is going to happen. I'm going to get us into an accident or I'm going to take you right here in the middle of the damn street. Your choice."

Her mouth turned up into a smile. As much as she burned for the second choice, the need for discretion still held on by a bare thread. "I'll behave," she whispered reluctantly, annoyed at her voice for being so hoarse with desire and at her body for wanting him so badly.

It was difficult to make out her face in the darkness, but he heard her need in her voice, and he was certain she heard his. Leaning in suddenly, he kissed her. That was very much the wrong thing to do, and only the sound of a car horn, which barely penetrated the fog in his head, brought reality back to bear.

With great reluctance, he withdrew from her, shifted the car into gear and continued down the street. The last thing they needed was for a patrol car to come across them and ask if they were having car trouble. _Nope, no car trouble. Operator issues..._

He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally parked outside his building. They wasted no time getting out of the car and into the building. As he got his keys out of his pocket, she slipped in front of him, her back turned to the door. She began to unbutton his shirt, and he dropped the keys. _Shit..._

As he started to bend over, she caught his mouth in a kiss, which he didn't expect, though he should have. Without hesitation, he returned her kiss with fervor before he continued toward the keys, and she came with him. After groping around for a moment, he found the keys, and she finished with the buttons on his shirt, sliding her hands across bare skin.

With a groan, he pressed her against the door while his fingers felt for the right key. Only one thought kept him from seeking to remove her clothes, and that was a reminder from the few working cells in his brain that there were children in the building. The kids really liked him, and so did their parents. It was reassuring to them that a cop lived down the hall and he was reluctant to destroy that faith.

Finding the key, he managed to slide it into the lock, turn it and get the door open. As they tumbled through the door, she slid his shirt off his shoulders and he kicked the door shut, dropping the keys on the floor again. He began to work on her clothes, but she suddenly withdrew from him, bracing her hands on his chest to prevent him from following her.

She could not miss the heat burning behind the confusion in his eyes, and she knew her eyes glowed back at him. "One thing," she said, her voice tight and hoarse. "Be-before we go on."

He waited, though not patiently, as she drew a few deep breaths to compose herself. She felt the trembling in his muscles and she felt a deep need to work on relieving his tension—and her own. "I said no holds barred, and that's exactly what I meant. I don't want you to hold back, Bobby. I want all of you, without reservation. Don't worry about hurting me. I'm a lot tougher than that." Her mouth curled into a delicious smile. "I can take you, so let me. It's all or nothing, big boy. I _need_ all of you."

Worry replaced his confusion, but she continued to burn only with desire for him, pushing him to accept her terms. He slowly nodded. "All of me...okay, Alex. You've got it."

The pressure of her hands against his chest disappeared, and he gave her what she asked for.


	5. All or Nothing

**A/N: After this we get back to the case. Enjoy!**

* * *

Deep in the night, Eames woke from a sound sleep. Uncertain of what woke her, she rolled toward Goren, but he wasn't there. She pushed back the light blanket and sheet and slid out of the bed. Grabbing a t-shirt, she pulled it on and went to look for him. She was sore here and there, but she felt relaxed and refreshed. It was a wonderful feeling, one she hadn't enjoyed in a long time.

He was sitting at the table with his back to the doorway, staring into a glass he he held with both hands. She stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and placing a light kiss on his cheek. He leaned back into her embrace, and she whispered into his ear, "Any regrets?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "No. What about you?"

"Not one. I feel wonderful."

He turned his head to look at her. "You do?"

"I do." She ran her fingers lightly over his bare chest. "So why are you out here and not in bed with me, keeping me warm?"

"Are you cold?"

She laughed softly, a sound he treasured. "Not really, but the bed is lonely without you."

He smiled, but it didn't last. "I had to take a call."

She saw the cell phone laying on the table near his glass. "Your mom?"

"Yes. I have to go out there first thing in the morning. I...I would like it if you were...still here when I get home."

She brushed her lips over his ear, and then followed the same path with her tongue. "Count on it. Bring home a nice bottle of wine. I'll make us dinner and we can have another amazing night."

He pressed his head back against her shoulder. "I would love that," he answered. "What are you going to make?"

"How does chicken sound?"

"I like chicken. Do you want red or white wine?"

"Surprise me." Tightening her arms around him, she nuzzled his ear again. "Come back to bed. I have my second wind."

Tying her words to her intent, she blew softly across his ear, then laughed and hurried away from him.

With a tremble of anticipation, he got up, knocking the chair over, and ran after her.

* * *

Snuggling up against him in the dark, Eames draped her leg over his and placed a kiss in front of his ear. "Is your mom all right?" she asked softly.

He tightened his arm around her and stroked her side. "She will be," he answered.

"What happened?"

Normally, he refused to discuss his mother with anyone except those directly involved with her care. But things between them had changed drastically. All or nothing, he'd promised. All or nothing she was going to get. He'd given her all he had in bed, and she'd responded with an enthusiasm that took his breath away. It also got him to thinking that maybe she really could handle all of him. Was it possible he finally found a woman who would accept him in spite of his past? He'd dated women who wanted to 'fix' him, women who wanted to change him and women who could not handle his intensity or the monsters from the past that haunted his dreams. Could this woman be the one who would simply accept him as he was and not be put off by the things that could not be changed? He'd given up hope of finding a woman like that and he was reluctant to stir those embers once more, but they were beginning to glow.

He moved his hand to her hip, drawing abstract designs over her skin as a distraction. "Something set her off at dinner and she attacked another resident with the sharp point of a broken pork chop bone. She managed to cut his cheek before the orderlies were able to restrain her. She's restrained and sedated again, and it'll be awhile before I can talk to her. She won't remember what happened once she comes out of it."

"Is there a chance you can find out before she comes out of it?"

"Probably not. She's not very cooperative when this happens. Everyone is a threat to her."

"Even you?"

He smiled sadly, knowing she couldn't see his face. "Especially me."

She shifted her position, nestling closer. She snuggled her head into the hollow of his shoulder and wrapped her leg more tightly around his. "The scars on your back..." she began, then stopped, afraid she was overstepping her bounds with him.

He rested his head against hers, encouraged by her apparent desire to remain close to him. Once, he'd felt he was a burden to her, but now he was beginning to believe that it was his withdrawal that was the real burden. "Some of them came from her," he admitted, but he didn't elaborate.

"Life's been hard for you," she said, her voice a whisper, her touch a tender caress.

He tried to dismiss her observation. "It is what it is. I don't guess I'm that much worse for the wear." He kissed her head. "I have you, and that makes me happy. I haven't felt this happy in a long time."

His words softened her. He had always been so reticent to discuss his mother and it spoke volumes to her that he was willing to talk to her now about the parts of his life that had always been off limits. But to hear that he was happy and that she was responsible for it made her heart soar. She sensed he was still waiting to hear the conditions under which she would love him, but he'd already heard them. All or nothing. As long as he tried not to shut her out, she would be satisfied. He understood unconditional love because that was the way his heart worked, but he wasn't used to being on the receiving end of it. She vowed to change that.

In the dark silence of the room, her eyes drifted closed, but just as she began to doze, she jerked awake. He softly shushed her, caressing her gently. Just as she drifted off again, he kissed her head and whispered, "Sweet dreams, baby."

* * *

He was gone when she woke in the morning. She searched the kitchen for the ingredients she needed to make dinner and took a trip to the bodega down the street for the missing items. After that, to keep herself distracted from her concern for Goren, she cleaned the already-clean apartment. She dusted the few pictures he had around the room, mainly photos of his mother and one of him and his brother as kids, and the painting that adorned the wall across from his bookcases. She didn't recognize the artist or the work, but it was a nice turn-of-the-century scene.

She was beginning to make preparations for dinner when he got home. He stepped up behind her and kissed her neck. She could sense the fatigue that enveloped his body and his spirit. He said nothing, and she took her cue from him. He wasn't prepared to talk.

He left the room and she heard the shower running a few minutes later. She was unfamiliar with his routine after a bad visit with his mother, but she was reassured that he didn't seem to want her to leave.

She was chopping vegetables when he came back into the kitchen. Silently, he grabbed a knife and helped her. She set down her knife and stepped closer to him, reaching over and placing her hand over his hand that held the knife. He paused before he set down the knife and turned toward her. She stepped into his arms and he held her firmly against his chest, burying his face in her hair.

She held him until he pulled away. "Rough day?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's...hard for me to see her like that."

"I can't imagine how hard," she said, rubbing her hand over the stubble on his cheek.

He touched her chin, turning her face up as he leaned in to kiss her. She slipped her arms around him as he deepened the kiss before withdrawing from her. She looked up into his eyes, dark with grief and need. She slipped her hand into his and led him from the room. "But...dinner..." he began.

"It can wait. I have something more important to take care of first."

"What's that?"

She led him down the hall to the bedroom. "You," she whispered, closing the door behind them.

* * *

Eames left him sleeping when she returned to the kitchen to finish dinner. She was glad he came home before she'd gotten anything cooking. She finished chopping the vegetables, but she worked on autopilot. Her mind was with him. He hadn't said a word, but his pain and despair were clearly evident. He was a master at hiding himself from the world, allowing just a sliver of his true emotions through his shield, and she had always been included among the world at large...until now.

At first, he'd been guarded as usual, but she had encouraged him to relax, to let go of his emotions. She saw the struggle in him, but somehow he'd found a way to beat his own defenses. Open and vulnerable to her, and deeply uncomfortable with it, he let her see his pain.

When dinner was ready, she went into the bedroom to wake him, but he was already up and dressed, standing by the window. He turned when she opened the door. "Dinner's ready whenever you are," she announced.

He nodded and stepped away from the window. When he got to the door, he stopped and looked down into her face. "Thank you."

She smiled and touched his cheek. His smile was tender and so was the kiss he gave her. Together they went to the kitchen to enjoy the meal she had prepared. She had promised him an amazing night, and she fully delivered on that promise.


	6. A Name to the Face

The first thing Monday morning Goren got the approval from Deakins to release the sketch of their victim to the media. The DNA results wouldn't be back for a few days, and he was reluctant to wait, fairly certain the matching would yield no results. He was anxious to find her family, to learn more about her so he could find out more about the man who'd taken her life.

Eames watched him as he reviewed the crime scene and autopsy photos as well as the autopsy report. In spite of her efforts to comfort him, he'd had a rough night and he was tired, but he covered it up well, as he always did. But she could read him much better now, and she could see his pain and the fatigue that plagued him whenever life dealt him another heavy-handed blow. His shoulders stooped a little under the weight of the burden they carried. She supposed being the sole caretaker, emotionally or physically, of a sick family member was something to which a person never completely adjusted, and he did better with it some days than others.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked suddenly.

He looked up from the photos. "Me? I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."

She nodded, understanding. "Have those pictures changed any since Saturday night?"

"Should they have?"

"You're looking at them like you haven't seen them before."

"It's been a day-and-a-half since I've seen them. I was hoping something new would jump out at me, but nothing has. There's nothing in the autopsy, either."

"Well, maybe we'll catch a break with the sketch release."

"It's already aired on the major networks, and the papers will run it in the late editions."

She folded her hands in front of her and propped her chin on them. "What do you have on the perp?"

He sighed and scrubbed his face. "Not a lot. I-I don't think he meant to kill her. The throat wound was an afterthought, to cover the other wound and throw us off."

"Where did her blood go?"

He hesitated. "That's a good question."

"Do you have a good answer?"

Again he hesitated, shuffling through the stack to the autopsy photos. Before he could answer, Eames asked the question that had been troubling her. "Do you think he drained her blood?"

"I think...that's a possibility. Those furrows under the magnifier could have been made by large-bore needles. I don't have another good explanation. There was very little blood on her clothes, and no evidence her throat was cut."

"So what did he do with four-and-a-half quarts of blood?"

"Some kind of ritual?" he offered.

"A blood sacrifice?"

"There are a lot of rituals that require blood as an element, although I'm not aware of many that require a sacrifice of human blood. Of course, human blood can always be substituted for animal blood. He may have intended to take some of her blood and when he realized he'd taken too much, he just kept going and finished her off. That may have been the more humane thing to do."

She shuddered at the thought of it. "Humane?" Her tone was incredulous. "How was what he did humane?"

"She died quickly, without suffering. It wasn't a lingering death."

"Bobby, he drained her body of blood."

"I know that, Eames. I'm not saying what he did was right. I'm saying once he committed himself, he saw it through to the end."

She didn't want to argue with him, but she was going to have to watch him. She was afraid he was already getting too far into the mind of their quarry--again. His deep understanding sometimes generated a misplaced sympathy in him for the disturbed minds of the criminals they pursued. Nelda Carlson, John Tagman, Mike McShale, Nicole Wallace...the list went on. She changed the subject before the tightness she felt in her gut became painful. "Does his choice of a dump site mean anything to you?"

He cocked his head, wondering at the change in the direction of the conversation, but he didn't call her on it. "No, not really. It may have simply been convenient. Nothing of significance jumps out at me."

She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. "I'm starving. Let's break for lunch."

He nodded in agreement. "Okay. You choose the place; I'll pick up the check."

"Deal. How does Ethiopian sound?"

He smiled. "Sounds fine to me."

"There's a good place over on Broadway. Let's go. Maybe something will grab you after we eat."

"Promises, promises," he said into her ear as he came up behind her on the way to the elevator.

She slapped the back of her hand against his stomach and he softly laughed. She smiled, wishing she heard that easy laugh more often. She pressed the down button and looked at him so he could see her smile. He returned the smile with one of the rare looks he reserved only for her. Her stomach fluttered and she began to calculate in her head how long it would take them to eat and then make a pit stop at his place before they returned to the squad room.

* * *

Late that afternoon, the elevator doors opened and a tiny, ancient woman stepped out onto the eleventh floor. She wore black shoes and a black dress that hung down to her knees. Her dark hair, gathered into a bun at the back of her head, was liberally threaded with gray and she had a death grip on the black handbag she held. Looking around, she turned to the left and walked into the squad room. A detective approached her. "May I help you, ma'am?"

"I am looking for Detectives Goren and Eames."

"Right over here."

He led them to Goren and Eames' desks and rolled over a desk chair for her. She sat lightly and settled her purse on her lap. As she opened it, she said, "My name is Adrijana Vukajlovic."

She withdrew a folded piece of newspaper. As she opened it, they recognized the sketch of their victim they had released to the press. She laid out the paper, smoothing her hand over it and looking at the two detectives, who watched her with interest. "Amy," she said, her strong voice marked by a thick Slavic accent. "Her name was Amy and she was my only grandchild. What happened to her?"

The detectives exchanged a look before Eames asked, "When was the last time you saw Amy?"

"Friday night. She had a date with a new beau, Warren. I became concerned when she did not call me over the weekend. Amy always called me. I knew something bad had happened to her. This afternoon's paper confirmed my fears. What happened to my grandchild?"

"We're trying to find that out," Goren said gently. "Did you meet Warren?"

"Only briefly, when he picked Amy up from my house. She wanted me to meet him. He was tall, taller than Amy. He had dark hair, but his eyes...his eyes gave me chills. I have never seen eyes like his before. They were...an unnatural color for a man, an animal's eyes. Yellow, not brown or blue or even green."

Goren rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "When did he pick her up for their date?"

"It was late. Almost ten o'clock. Amy didn't know where he was taking her, but she was intrigued by him. I have never seen her so...excited by a date."

"This was their first date?"

"No. It was the second one. She was out with him on Wednesday, and she could not wait to see him again. She said he made her feel vibrant, alive. But maybe you should talk to her friends. They would know more than Amy would tell her old _Baka_."

"We'll need Amy's full name and address, where she worked, and the names of any of her friends that you know. We'll also need your contact information, in case we have any questions for you."

The old woman nodded. Eames handed her a pen and paper and looked at Goren as the old woman began to write. He met her gaze, excitement bright in his eyes. They had leads to follow and a chance to pick up the scent of the man who killed Amy.

Returning the paper and pen to Eames, Adrijana said, "Please, find the man who did this to my Amy."

She nodded. "We'll do everything we can. We need one more thing from you. We need you to come with us to identify Amy's body. Can you do that?"

The old woman squared her tiny shoulders. "I will do what I must do."

Goren tipped his head to the side and leaned closer to her. "When did you come to this country?"

She studied his openly curious face and answered, "In 1941, after the Nazis took control of my country and murdered my parents and my brother and sister. My uncle hid me from them and he got me out of the country to America. I was twelve years old. My children were born and raised here, but they are both gone, my son and my daughter. Their father passed away ten years ago. Amy was all I had. Now I am alone."

She rose from the chair and took Goren's arm when he offered it. He and Eames exchanged looks. The little grandmother seemed even smaller beside him; her head barely reached his chest. But she carried herself with a pride and self-assurance that belied her tiny stature.

The ride to the morgue was quiet and the wizened old woman leaned on Goren's arm. Eames went ahead of them to talk to Rodgers, and Goren waited with Adrijana in the hall as the medical examiner prepared the body for identification. Eames joined them after a short while. "Dr. Rodgers is almost ready."

They accompanied Adrijana to the window. Eames touched a small shoulder and said, "Let us know when you are ready."

Adrijana's hand tightened on Goren's arm, but she squared her shoulders, which already bore the burden of much grief. "I am ready," she said.

Rodgers drew the sheet from the victim's head. Eames saw the color drain from the old woman's face and Goren supported more of her weight as she nodded. It was her granddaughter.

Eames motioned to Rodgers, who replaced the sheet over the body's head, as Goren led Adrijana to a nearby chair. He dropped to one knee beside the chair and Eames sat beside her in an adjacent chair. The old grandmother closed her eyes for a few minutes before she finally drew in a deep breath, mustering the strength to continue. "I need to go home and plan for my Amy's burial."

Eames watched her partner stand and help Adrijana to her feet. She held onto his arm as they left the morgue and returned to the 11th floor, where Eames got her a cup of tea as Goren settled her in an interview room. "We'll get an officer to take you home," he said.

Eames entered the room and placed a cup of tea in front of the grief-stricken grandmother. The detectives sat with her as she sipped her tea while they waited for an officer to arrive who could take her home. When the officer came to the door, Goren reached out, took a small, soft hand in his and promised, "We will find the man who did this to your granddaughter."

She touched his cheek and looked into his dark eyes. "You are a good man, a kind man. But be cautious. Something dark and evil took my granddaughter from me. Be careful it does not consume you, too."

The uneasy tightness that had gripped Eames' gut returned with the old woman's words as Goren helped Adrijana to her feet and turned her over to the care of the waiting officer.

As they returned to their desks, Eames said, "I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Tell the family we'll find the perp."

"I mean it."

"I know you do, but one of these times you are not going to be able to deliver on that promise. Then what? You say you're sorry and move on?"

"I don't plan to ever be wrong."

She laughed at his arrogant confidence. "Keep thinking that, Bobby. I never want you to be wrong."

She picked up the information the old woman had written for them and read it over. "Amy's last name was Petrakos. What was it her grandmother called herself?"

"_Baka_. It's Serbian for grandmother."

She smirked. "One of these days you aren't going to know something."

He grinned. "I have never claimed to know everything."

"You're a know-it-all, but what saves your ass is that you don't act like one. You're very matter-of-fact about the things you know. If you were more arrogant, I'd have to smack you down."

His grin widened and he softly said, "I would welcome that."

A light flush colored her face as she turned her attention back to the list. She had taken a risk, stepping into a more intimate relationship with her partner, but it was one she did not regret. She began typing names into her computer, searching for Amy's friends.


	7. On the Trail

Adrijana's list included three of Amy's friends: Nicholas Freibert, Kim Michaels and Meg Clarion. As Eames searched for the friends in the DMV database, Goren began a separate search of his own.

After running down the names and addresses with the DMV, Eames spent a couple of hours scouring several other databases. Wearily, she leaned back in her seat and rubbed her eyes. Looking around the nearly-deserted squad room, she wondered what time it was. Just after 10? Really? She looked at her partner, who was engrossed in what he was doing. Of course. "Bobby."

After a moment, he raised his eyes from the computer in front of him. "Did you say something?"

"I want to go home. I want my eight hours or I'm going to be useless tomorrow."

He looked at the computer screen, then at the pad of paper beside him, tucked into his binder. He was on the verge of telling her to go on home when she got up and walked around to look over his shoulder at what he was doing.

Deliberately, she pressed her chest into his shoulder as she leaned over to read what was on his computer screen. But her playfulness vanished as she realized what he had found. She counted the cases he had listed on the paper beside the computer. "Twenty-seven? Going back how far?"

"I've gotten to 1985, so almost 20 years. These are all cases that have the same MO as ours—unexplained ex-sanguination. But they are all cold cases from different jurisdictions around the Tri-State area. They have never been connected, until now."

"You have to be kidding me. You think they are related to our case?"

"I think they could be, yes. I need to request the records from the investigating precincts."

"How far out of the city are you going?"

"Most of them fall within NYPD jurisdiction. There are a few from Jersey City, Newark, and a couple of other Essex and Hudson County jurisdictions, a couple from Westchester County, and one from Fairfield County, Connecticut, just outside Stamford. I'm sure I'd find more if I expanded the search, but I tightened it up after the Connecticut case popped up. "

"And how far back are you going?"

"I hadn't intended to go back this far when I started."

"No one has connected them before? I thought the computer programs we're using look for these kinds of patterns."

"Active cases have priority being entered into the departmental crime program. Most cold cases are still on the shelf until the time and resources are available to put them into the program. Right now they are just statistics in the database until someone searches them out. These particular cases have no suspects, no leads and for many of them, no ID on the victims. They're very low priority."

She leaned against his desk. "Can you pick this up again tomorrow? We have some interviews to do, but I don't think your cold cases are going anywhere."

He leaned back in his chair. "You located Amy's friends?"

"The ones her grandmother gave us, yes. Two of them live in Brooklyn and the third lives in Nolita, down the street from Amy's apartment. She also happens to work for the same firm as Amy. I'm sure we'll come away with a list of other friends to see."

"So you found Amy's workplace?"

She nodded. "All her grandmother knew was the phone number, so I gave it a call. She worked down in the Financial District at an investment firm called Worther and Baskin. We can hit them tomorrow when we're done in Nolita."

He hesitated, looking from her to his computer. She reached out and closed the laptop. "It will wait. There is nothing in those cold cases so urgent that you have to spend the night working or put off any part of our investigation. Now let's get some dinner and call it a night."

She looked directly into his eyes, knowing he would not mistake her meaning. She suppressed the urge to reach out and touch him, surprised by how strong it was. She needed a physical connection with him, but this was definitely not the place to seek it. She continued to hold his gaze, unwilling to look away.

He looked away first, his desire to continue searching for connected cases fading quickly in favor of a much stronger desire. He put the computer away and closed his binder. "How does pizza sound?" he asked as he stood up.

"Perfect," she answered, walking around to quickly gather her things as he placed the call for a large pepperoni and mushroom pie.

The ride down to the parking garage was silent and tense. They climbed into the car and she wasted no time backing out of the spot and exiting the parking garage. She drove around to the Brooklyn Bridge and across the river, glad they had taken the time at lunch to go to her place instead of his, so she could get a couple of changes of clothes.

Their timing turned out to be perfect as they met the delivery girl in front of the building. He paid for the pizza and they went in to his apartment.

After a quick dinner, they turned to one another. Once Eames was fully sated, she turned her attention not to satisfying him, but to exhausting him so that he would sleep. She hated seeing him so run down, and she was determined to do something about it.

After she coaxed him back from the edge of sleep twice, he could barely stay awake, and she finally let him drift off. She snuggled against him and quickly fell into a comfortable sleep.

* * *

Eames woke the next morning, pleasantly surprised to find Goren still sleeping soundly beside her. She slid out of the bed unnoticed and climbed into a hot shower. Standing beneath the steady stream, she closed her eyes, savoring the hot water as it ran over her skin.

She heard the curtain move, shivering as the cool air caressed her skin. The curtain closed and, as the warmth of the steam that once again filled the small space between the curtain and the wall enveloped her, two strong arms pulled her against a muscled chest. She pressed into him as he kissed her neck. He licked the water from her skin and she laughed.

Turning in his arms, she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. By the time they were done in the shower, the water was cold.

* * *

Nicholas Freibert tumbled out of bed, grumbling under his breath at the lack of consideration people sometimes had. He had Tuesdays off, so he'd worked the night shift as a bouncer at a club in the Village and had just crawled into bed two hours ago, after a couple of hours of partying with some of the last patrons to leave the club at closing. He was feeling no pain, his mind hazy from the combination of drugs and alcohol still in his system. He opened the door of his Brooklyn apartment, surprised to find himself looking at a pretty woman holding a badge.

"Mr. Freibert, I'm Detective Eames and this is my partner, Detective Goren. We'd like to talk to you about Amy Petrakos."

"Amy? Well, yeah, sure, come on in." He yawned as he led them into a small, messy living room. "What's this about? Is something wrong with Amy?"

"You could say that," Goren said as he removed a photo from his binder and handed it to him.

The color drained from Nick's face at the sight of the morgue photo. "Oh, my God..." He collapsed onto an empty pizza box in a chair as the two detectives stood near the couch. "Amy..."

He stared at the picture for a long minute before looking up, his bloodshot eyes bright with tears. "What happened to her?"

"That's what we're trying to determine," Eames replied. "When did you see her last?"

"Uh, last...last weekend, Saturday night. A group of us went clubbing. I danced with her a few times, and we all got pretty trashed. It was a normal Saturday night."

"Did she have a steady boyfriend?"

He shook his head. "Not that I know of. She kind of made the rounds of our little group."

Goren arched an eyebrow and glanced at Eames. "How little is your group?" he asked.

"It varies from week to week, between eight and twelve."

"Whose turn was it last week?" Eames asked.

"I think she went home with Teddy, I mean, his name is Edward Faraday. He lives in the East Village."

"We'll need the names and addresses of everyone in your group."

Nick struggled to pull himself together. "I, yeah...okay."

Eames handed him a pad and pen, and he began to write as Goren wandered around the room. Nick glanced up at him from time to time, wondering what he was looking for and worried about what he would find. When he finished the list and handed the pad back to Eames, she said, "Tell us about Amy."

"There isn't much to tell. She was sweet, but when she wanted something, look out. She was in the top ten percent of our graduating class at Hudson, and she scored a great job in the Financial District. She lived with her grandmother in Bay Ridge, but she hated the commute, so she found a place of her own in Nolita."

"How did that sit with her grandmother?"

Nick looked over his shoulder to see what Goren was doing before he answered, "She knew Amy wasn't going to stay with her forever, but she was still sad. Amy tried to get her to move with her, but the old gal's lived in Bay Ridge since World War Two, and Amy's mother was born in that house."

"Be respectful," Goren warned at Nick's reference to Amy's grandmother as 'the old gal.'

Nick's face flushed. "Sorry. I meant no disrespect. Amy's grandmother won't ever leave Brooklyn. Amy was very close to her, though, and she visited her all the time."

"When did Amy move to Nolita?" Goren asked.

"About eight months ago, not long after we graduated."

"Do you know where she was Friday night?"

He shook his head. "No. She just told us that she was seeing a new guy she met earlier in the week and she wouldn't be hanging with us this week."

He looked at the morgue photo he still held in his hand. Goren came around from behind him and held out his hand for the picture. Nick gave it one last look before he handed it back. "Oh, man, Amy..."

"Did she tell you anything about the new guy?" Eames asked as her partner tucked the picture away in his binder.

Nick shook his head. "Not me, no. But we weren't that close. I mean, I slept with her from time to time, but we didn't waste our time chatting, you know?"

Goren nodded. "I know. So who would she have dished to about the new guy?"

"Any of the girls in the group, I suppose. I don't really pay attention to who is buddy-buddy. I just know who gets to come home with me."

"Thanks for your time," Eames said, handing him her card. "If any inspiration strikes you, call us."

He grinned at her, feeling more like himself. "You seeing anybody?" he asked with a suggestive arch of his eyebrows.

As Goren passed him, he 'accidentally' ran his arm into the back of Nick's head. "Oh, excuse me," he said. "I'm sorry."

Nick rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, no problem."

The two detectives left the apartment. Once they were out of the building, Eames said, "That was smooth."

"Well, he was out of line."

She smiled as they arrived at the car. He leaned on the hood, watching her walk around to the driver's side. "His grief was genuine. He didn't know she was dead."

"I guess he was too busy getting wasted to read the papers or watch the news."

"He was yesterday."

"Something tells me the news isn't on the favorites list in his program guide. Kim Michaels doesn't live far from here. Let's try her next."

* * *

Kim Michaels wasn't home, and the stack of newspapers in front of her door told them she hadn't been home for a couple of days. "Maybe she's shacking up with one of the group," Eames said. "We can worry about her later. Let's see if Meg Clarion can fill in some of the blanks we have. She lives in Amy's neighborhood. Maybe they were BFFs."

Meg Clarion lived in a third floor apartment in the Nolita neighborhood of Lower Manhattan. She opened the door. "Yes?"

"Meg Clarion?" Eames asked.

"Yes."

"We're Detective Eames and Goren, Miss Clarion. We'd like to talk to you about Amy Petrakos."

"Please come in. Excuse the mess. I just got in from out-of-town and I haven't had a chance to clean."

She led them into a spotless living room and bid them make themselves at home. "Let me get you something to drink," she insisted, not giving them a chance to refuse.

Eames looked around the room. "My place should look this good after I clean it."

Goren smiled at her as Meg returned with a tray containing a pitcher of iced tea and three glasses. "I just made it, so it's fresh," she said as she poured the tea. "So how can I help you? Is Amy in some kind of trouble?"

"What makes you ask that?" Goren asked.

"I haven't heard from her since Friday and that's not like her, even when I'm out of town."

"She calls you often?" Eames asked.

"Of course, especially after a hot date like the one she had Friday night. I was planning to shower and go over to her apartment."

"Wouldn't she be at work?"

"She should be, but when I called in, her assistant got on the phone with me and said she hasn't come in yet, and she didn't come in yesterday."

Goren studied her carefully. "Is that unusual?"

"For Amy to miss work? Yes. That's why I was going to go over to her place to check on her."

"You work together?"

"In adjacent offices, yes."

Eames glanced at Goren as he wrote on the pad in his binder, then she asked, "Did you meet the man she was seeing Friday?"

"I was there when she met him, Wednesday night. He swept her off her feet. He was like Rhett Butler from _Gone With the Wind_...except for his eyes. He has the most unusual eyes. They're kind of yellow. I've never seen eyes that color. They were so sexy."

The detectives exchanged looks before Eames pressed on. "Do you know anything about him?"

"Why? What's happened? Did he do something to Amy?"

"We aren't sure," Goren said.

"Her body was found in Crown Heights on Friday night, just after midnight. We're trying to find out what happened to her, and we need to find her date so we can question him."

Meg covered her mouth with her hand and gasped as she fell back into a chair opposite the couch. "Oh, my God...no... Not Amy..."

"Is there anything you can tell us that might help us?" Eames asked.

Meg took a few minutes to pull herself together. "We met Warren at a new club in Soho. It's called _Lager des Teufel_. It's pretty popular. You can try to find him there."

Goren raised an eyebrow before he cocked his head and said, "Amy's grandmother told us Amy was quite taken with Warren."

Meg pulled a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped her eyes. "That's an understatement. Wednesday night she left the club with him. She came into work the next morning beyond cloud nine. She told me she'd never been with a man like him before."

Eames knew that feeling, looking at the man seated beside her as her mind strayed momentarily. When he looked at her, she felt a rush of desire course through her. She refocused on Meg and said, "Did she go into detail?"

Meg's cheeks turned red. "Oh, yes. She was radiant Thursday morning, and she could barely wait to see him again. She told me he was incredible, that he brought all her senses to life, like she was being consumed by a blazing fire that touched every part of her and then left her trembling and weak as a kitten. All she wanted was more of him."

"How long have you known Amy?" Eames asked.

"Since we started at Hudson, almost five years."

"Was she prone to this kind of behavior?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. Amy was as grounded as they come. She doesn't really date. She has always kept herself within our little circle of friends. I never heard her gush over any of them."

Goren closed his binder. "Was there anything else odd about her behavior?"

"Not that I noticed. I was just so surprised that she was fawning over a guy like she was. That just wasn't like her."

Eames handed her card to Meg with the usual request to call if she thought of anything else as Goren started for the door. Eames and Meg followed him. "Amy's grandmother?" Meg asked tentatively.

Goren nodded. "You should go to visit her. She needs to know that she's not alone in the world."

Meg's shoulders relaxed. "I will. Thank you."

Once they were out on the sidewalk, Eames asked, "What lit a fire under your ass?"

"She told us all she had to tell. The club they were at...are you busy tonight?"

Her mouth quirked into a small smile. "Detective, are you asking me on a date?"

"Call it whatever you want. We need to see this place."

"Because you think we can find Warren there?"

"That, and because of the name. _Lager des Teufel_."

"Which is significant because...?"

"It's German...for the Devil's Lair."


	8. Encounter at the Club

Goren stepped up behind Eames as she stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, arranging her hair. He leaned down and kissed her neck, lingering over the soft skin. She leaned back against him. "Do you think it's going to be as easy as walking in and saying 'We want to talk to Warren'?"

"What do you think?" he replied without moving his lips away from her neck where it sloped to her shoulder.

She closed her eyes as his breath caressed sensitive skin. "That's what I thought."

Suppressing a tremor of desire, she forced herself to finish her hair as he continued to explore her exposed skin. "If you want to check out this club, you'd better cut that out," she warned.

With a smile, he planted a final kiss on her neck before stepping away from her. Turning, she reached out, grabbed his hand and pulled him back, leaning up to kiss him. "I'll be ready in five."

He ran two fingers lightly along her jawline, bending toward her to kiss her again. Slowly, her arms eased along his chest and shoulders to encircle his neck. With great reluctance, he broke the kiss and moved away from her. He touched her cheek and held her gaze for a moment. Then he left the room.

Eames watched him leave, stunned. Goren was a master at guarding his emotions and protecting his heart. She understood his reserve because she was just as guarded. But in that moment that had just passed between them, he had dropped his guard and let his heart show in his eyes. It vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, but not before she saw it...and what she saw was love.

Goren went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink with trembling hands. He had almost taken a bigger risk with Eames than he ever had before. Over the years he had placed himself between suspects and their weapons. He had been in the line of fire many times, felt the adrenaline rush of a life-threatening situation. But that was nothing compared to what had just happened. He was used to speaking his mind, but he'd never come as close to speaking his heart as he'd just been. He didn't even want to imagine how she would have responded. Disturbed dreams handled that scenario for him almost nightly. He wasn't ready to lose her, so he'd kept his mouth shut...but it was close.

He closed his eyes when she stepped up beside him and skimmed her hand over his back. He felt her presence beside him before she even touched him, before she rested her head against his arm. Everything about her was intense for him. "Getting a head start?" she asked lightly, nodding at the glass in his hand.

He finished his drink and kissed her head. "Ready to go?"

Turning to face him, she reached up and loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt before removing the tie and setting it on the counter. She smoothed her hands over his shirt and adjusted his jacket. "That's better," she answered. "Let's go."

* * *

_Lager des Teufel_. Aside from a bright light above the entrance to the club, the red neon sign across the front of the building was the only light adorning the club. Unlike the trendy, more popular clubs elsewhere in the city, there was no line of eager patrons awaiting admission. Goren pulled the front door open and held it for Eames, following closely behind her into the building.

Her black dress clung to her in all the right places but there was no place for her to wear her gun, so she'd tucked it into the night bag she held securely under her arm. If something went down that required the immediate presence of a firearm, his easier access to his firearm guaranteed that his would be the first drawn.

His eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips where the dress hugged her before loosening to flow around her legs. The hem stopped at her knees, just above the black, heeled boots she wore. When the door to the outside closed behind him, however, he returned his attention to the business at hand.

Eames looked around the interior of the club, wondering what sins the subdued lighting hid. Tucked off into an alcove stood a bouncer who was at least Goren's size. A long mahogany bar was set off to one side while red leather booths lined the walls. A few tables were scattered about the huge room, leaving plenty of room for dancing in the center of the club.

Despite the lack of a line at the entrance, the club was busy. The dance floor was full, most of the tables and booths were occupied, and the air was filled with music, laughter and conversation. Somewhere in the space beneath the room, smoke machines generated a fog that drifted and rolled along the floor. Eames turned toward her partner and he leaned down to hear her above the noise in the club. "It sure lives up to its name," she said.

He smiled as he placed a hand on her back and guided her to the bar. The bartender stopped in front of them. He was young and pale with dark hair and eyes hidden behind tinted glasses. "What's your poison?" he asked pleasantly.

"Vodka martini, easy on the vermouth," Eames requested.

"Glenlivet, straight," Goren said when the bartender looked at him.

When the man returned with their drinks, Eames leaned toward him and said, "We're looking for someone we were told might be here tonight. Tall, handsome...his name is Warren."

The bartender pulled back at the mention of Warren's name. "You should talk to Ethan, the owner. He has a better head for faces and names than I do. Maybe he can help you. Wait here."

Eames took a sip of her drink as Goren turned to look out across the club, resting one elbow on the bar. As she followed his lead and also studied the people mingling about in the spacious club, she took his hand, absently playing with his fingers as she searched for anyone matching the description they had of Warren.

"It seems like a regular club," she said.

He brought his mouth close to her ear and answered, "It does and it doesn't. The lighting in here is subdued, but the bartender and the wait staff choose to wear shades? That seems strange."

"Maybe it's part of the mystique."

His mouth turned up in a small smile and he closed his fingers around hers. "We'll have to ask Ethan."

Being undercover had always been something they both enjoyed, and now that there was no element of pretense involved, it took no effort to give the appearance of a couple involved with one another. Even so, Goren struggled against the impulse to lean down to kiss her, an impulse that grew stronger as she stroked his index finger with her thumb. He remained guarded about overt displays of affection in public, ever mindful of the fact that to the world at large, she could be nothing more than his partner.

Close by, a man cleared his throat, followed by a polite interruption. "Excuse me."

They turned their attention a tall, thin man impeccably dressed entirely in black. Like his employees, he also wore dark glasses. He moved and spoke in a calculated, precise manner, and his British accent added to the air of polite elitism he projected. "I am Ethan. Gerard tells me you have questions about one of our patrons."

Eames stepped easily into her yuppie persona. "Our friend Amy was here last week with her new boyfriend, Warren. She got tied up tonight, and she sent us to deliver a message to him. She said the bartender would be able to direct us to him."

Ethan waved his hand. "Come with me to my office and we can discuss your friends."

Eames released her partner's hand and stepped away from the bar to follow Ethan, knowing Goren would be right behind her. She glanced at him, noting that he did not appear to be on edge, but appearances, she knew from experience, could be deceiving, especially with her unpredictable partner. Alert and on edge, she tightened her grip on her handbag, as reassured by the hard feel of the gun beneath her fingers as she was by the presence of the man behind her.

Ethan's office was spacious, decorated in the same dark colors as the club, primarily black and red, with a huge mahogany desk on the far side. He sat behind the desk and looked at the two detectives. His manner changed dramatically as he removed his dark glasses. Eames looked quickly at Goren, but his face was unreadable. Ethan's eyes were an unusual shade of yellow, like the description of Warren's eyes they'd received from Arijana and Meg. His voice, though still polite, carried a hard edge as he said, "Let's level with one another, shall we? We all know that Amy did not send you with a message for Warren, because poor dear Amy met with a rather unfortunate fate over the weekend. So tell me, why are you looking for Warren?"

Following the club owner's lead, Eames dropped her yuppie persona and infused her voice with the same hard edge as Ethan's. "I am Detective Eames; this is my partner, Detective Goren. We are investigating Amy's death, and since Warren was the last person to be seen with her, we want to talk to him about what happened. Her friends had no idea where we could find him and suggested we start here."

"Very diplomatic, my dear. Warren made a mistake, and he has been dealt with. Trust me on that. He will not make another mistake."

Goren's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, but we still have our own investigation to run. We need to talk to him."

"I'm afraid that is quite impossible."

Eames felt her patience slipping. "Are you saying Warren will be the next corpse we find in an alley someplace?"

Ethan's calm smile was chilling. "Nothing of the sort, my dear detective. Warren will not turn up again on anyone's radar. We have no use for your criminal justice system. We deal with our own, and our justice is absolute. To help you close your investigation, I will tell you this much—Warren is the one who was responsible for the poor girl's death. She was unexpectedly passionate and, unfortunately, he got...carried away. By the time he realized his mistake, there was no chance to remedy it, and he had to finish her off, so she would not suffer. As deaths go, hers was quite the pleasant one, trust me. She went out, so to speak, on a note of passion. But being young, poor Warren panicked, and that was what led to the unfortunate discovery of his overzealousness." Watching the two detectives exchange looks, Ethan folded his carefully manicured hands on the desk in front of him. "Please trust me. Warren's carelessness has been punished---so case closed."

"It's not quite that easy," Goren said.

Ethan smiled. "For me, it is. Feel free to enjoy my club, detectives, and have a good night."

Eames looked at Goren who stared at Ethan for a few moments before he tipped his head and followed her out of the office. As they left the club, he placed his hand on her hip and leaned in to speak into her ear. "We need to see Mr. Carver about a search warrant."

She nodded as she pulled out her phone and dialed the ADA's home phone number.

Inside the club, Ethan leaned back in his chair as Gerard came into the office. The club owner said, "We haven't seen the last of them. They're both diligent and smart. He lets her do the talking while he watches, searches for weakness. His name's Goren and hers is Eames. Cops. Find out what you can about them."

Gerard nodded. "Yes, Master."

He left the office, and Ethan leaned back in his chair and smiled.


	9. An Ancient Noble

After spending several minutes arguing with Carver as they walked to the car, Eames closed her phone with an angry snap. "No go on the search warrant until tomorrow. Carver refuses to wake up a judge on circumstantial evidence. He said he'll review the case with us in the morning and then talk to a judge about it if he thinks we have probable cause, but he won't make any promises."

With a frustrated huff, Goren hit the door. "Whatever evidence there is in there that can tie the club to Amy's murder will be gone by the time we get back with a warrant."

"Do you think she was killed here, in the club?"

Goren leaned against the door and looked at the front facade of the club. He nodded his head slowly. "Yes. I think this is exactly where it happened. Like Ethan said, when it was over, and he realized what had happened, Warren panicked and dumped her body. If he hadn't panicked, we would never have found Amy's body. Ethan would have made sure of that."

They got into the car. "So what do you think?" Eames asked as she turned to look at him in the shadows.

"We have to wait until we have a warrant or nothing will be admissible. First thing in the morning, we need to see what we can find out about Ethan and his club. Maybe there are red flags we can present to Carver that will strengthen the case for a judge. He hates using our hunches as the basis for requesting a search warrant."

Eames laughed. "Yes, he does." She started the engine. "So...home?"

"There's not much else we can do now," he said.

"Your place?"

He smiled. "Wherever you want to go."

"All you need is a bed, right?" she teased as she pulled away from the curb.

"No," he answered. "All I need is you."

She looked at him when she stopped at the red light at the end of the block, but he was looking out the window. She continued through the intersection when the light changed, but she reached out and gripped his hand. He interlaced his fingers with hers, but neither of them spoke.

They remained silent for the rest of the drive to his apartment.

* * *

By the time they got to the door, his keys were in his hand. After following her into the apartment and locking the door behind him, he joined her in the living room, dropping the keys on the coffee table and removing his jacket, which he tossed onto the recliner as he pulled her into his arms.

She no longer had any reservations about surrendering to him, and she was pleased by his progress in giving himself over to her. She wasn't looking for perfection. As long as he tried, she was happy. More than trying, though, he was succeeding, and she was thrilled.

He had taken her ultimatum to heart, and he did his best to push aside his reservations and give her what she demanded. After every encounter, he found it easier to remove more of the barriers he kept between himself and the rest of the world. She was the only one he let in, and he was pleased by the happiness he saw in her with each gain she made toward the heart of him. But he couldn't hide his apprehension the closer she got. He knew she wasn't ready to deal with the monsters hidden in his past, no matter how much she thought she was. His biggest fear was that, once she had what she thought she wanted and saw what he deliberately kept hidden, she would not be able to handle it and he would lose her, once and for all.

And yet, in spite of the risk, he was willing to press on, to continue trying. He could not get enough of her. He could feel himself falling further and further, and he didn't want to stop.

* * *

Eames loved Goren's bed. It was big and comfortable, much like he was. She loved it even more when he was in it with her. But when she rolled toward him, seeking the comfort of his body against hers, she rolled into empty space. He wasn't there. She looked at the clock on the nightstand. _2:37_.

Disappointed and concerned, she slipped out of the bed and wrapped her robe around her naked body. When she entered the living room, she found him sitting on the couch, laptop on the coffee table in front of him, binder open on the couch beside him.

Knowing he couldn't access the NYPD intranet from home, she wondered what had him so engrossed. She crossed the room and moved the binder from the couch to her lap as she sat beside him and said, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, no." He rubbed his forehead. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Not really. I just noticed you weren't in bed."

Resting her head against his arm, she looked at the computer screen. "Well, it's not porn," she commented.

He looked at her. "Porn?"

"Why else would you be up at this hour with your computer?"

He grinned as he turned his attention back to the screen. "I'm looking through the media for reports of suspicious deaths and for information about the club. If we can somehow tie the club to anything suspicious, Carver will have his probable cause and he won't have to pitch a gut feeling."

She watched him click through several screens before she slid her hand along his back and through his hair. She teased his ear with her finger, straying into his hair before returning to his ear. He closed his eyes. She continued teasing his hair as she feigned interest in the computer.

He moved suddenly, surprising her. He caught her mouth in a hard kiss, which softened when she relaxed against him. His binder slid to the floor unnoticed as he reclined against the arm, pulling her along with him.

As he opened her robe, though, she suddenly rolled over on top of him and bit his lip. "I am not sleeping on the couch," she said with a laugh.

She rolled off him and trotted to the bedroom. He caught her in the doorway, grabbing her around the waist. She squealed and began to laugh. Delighting in the sound of her laughter, he tickled her as she squirmed against him. Somehow, they made it to the bed.

* * *

Eames was surprised when she woke forty-five minutes before the alarm. Usually, Goren woke before the alarm, then turned it off and let her sleep until the last possible minute. Even when he did wake with the alarm, he turned it right off and she usually went back to sleep for another half hour or so. She tried to convince him that she was the one who needed more time to get ready in the mornings, but he always made sure to wake her in plenty of time to prepare for the day. Hot coffee always waited for her and sometimes he even had scrambled eggs and toast or, as a rare treat, pancakes for her. He was spoiling her, but she had no complaints.

It didn't take long for her to realize that he needed that extra time alone. He wasn't used to sharing his living space, or his private life, with another person. He was still adjusting and private time was important to him. He needed it, and she understood.

She reached across him and turned off the alarm. Settling back into the pillows, she studied him. He lay on his side, facing away from her, with his arm tucked beneath the pillow under his head. He preferred to sleep on his side, though he didn't seem to have a marked preference for one side over the other. She gently ran her fingertips over his bare back. He made a soft, content noise that made her smile.

Moving closer, she brushed her lips across the skin at the nape of his neck, then very slowly made her way down to the small of his back, returning just as slowly to his neck. The tone of the soft noises he made changed from contentment to something more primal.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her against him. His eyes opened a little and his lips turned up into a small smile. "Good morning," he said softly, his voice still sleepy.

"Good morning," she said, kissing him.

"I like waking up like this," he said with a soft sigh, skimming his fingers over her back.

She shifted at the light touch and he saw the laughter in her eyes. Pressing against her, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. "So do I," she replied, trying not to laugh as he continued to tickle her.

He couldn't think of a better way to start the day.

* * *

"Ethan Wellington-Smythe," Eames read off her computer screen. "Owner of _Lager des Teufel_ in Soho and another club in the Village, _Schatz des Teufel_..."

She stopped and looked at Goren for a translation. He said, "_Schatz des Teufel_...Devil's Treasure. I see a theme."

She smiled and returned her attention to the screen. "He opened both clubs in 1998. He's clean as a whistle, not so much as a parking ticket. Immigration records show he arrived in New York from London in 1996. But that's all we have for him. He's not listed with the DMV and the records I have here give the club in Soho as his home address."

"Is he still a British national?"

She nodded. "He has been given permanent residence status, but he hasn't applied for citizenship yet."

He pulled out a small notebook from his side drawer. "We should call Scotland Yard, have them run him down in their records and see if he's still squeaky clean. He may be running from a multitude of sins, and they're about to catch up with him."

Half an hour later, he hung up the phone, his brow deeply furrowed. Eames looked up. "What's wrong?"

"They can't find him."

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. They have no record of an Ethan Wellington-Smythe emigrating to the States in the last fifteen years. They are going to probe deeper, see if they can find any kind of record for him, and they'll call back."

"I talked to Carver while you were on the phone with Scotland Yard. We still don't have enough probable cause for him to go to a judge. All we have is hearsay. We can't physically place Amy with Warren or in the club the night she was killed. Ethan's admission that Warren killed Amy is also hearsay. If we put everything we have together in a pile, we have a big pile of nothing. We need more, Bobby, or we have no case."

He tapped his pen on the desk in front of him. "We'll have to find it, then."

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

"We have to go back to the club."

"I think we've gotten everything we can get from Ethan."

"So we talk to the staff."

She smiled. "Do you think you can charm one of his girls into giving him up? I got the distinct feeling that he inspires loyalty in his people."

"It can't hurt to try. We need something concrete for Carver. The only way we are going to get that is to go back to the club and find it."

She nodded reluctantly, feeling distinctly uneasy about returning to the dark club. "All right. We'll go back to the club tonight."

With a nod, he turned back to his computer, resuming the search he'd begun the night before.

* * *

As they were getting ready to leave for lunch, a call came in for Goren. He spent ten minutes on the phone and looked troubled when he finally set the receiver in the cradle. "Was that Scotland Yard?" Eames asked.

He nodded. "They weren't able to find any records at all for an Ethan Wellington-Smythe born in the last 30 years, so they kept going back in the records. One of their inspectors finally came across an old record that matched what we're looking for."

"How old?"

"Very old, too old. She found a baptismal record for Ethan Wellington-Smythe, son of George Arthur Wellington, the third Earl of Cheltenham. The title would have passed on to his son, Ethan, except that according to church records, Lord Ethan died two years before his father, at the age of 21, and so the title became extinct...in 1820."

She remained in her chair, staring at him. "Are you trying to tell me that the man we talked to yesterday was born in 1799? He doesn't look..."

She trailed off and Goren completed her thought. "A day over twenty-one."

She shook her head. "No. That's not possible. You're kidding me."

His mouth turned into a brief smile. "You know me better."

She closed her eyes. She did know him better. He wasn't joking. In fact, not only was he serious, but he seemed to accept the information at face value, as though it could really be true. When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her with open curiosity. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"You never cease to amaze me, Bobby. You were just told that a person of interest in our murder investigation may be over 200 years old and you barely bat an eye. In a profession built on skepticism, you are so open to the most outlandish ideas."

"'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,'" he quoted with a grin. When she laughed, his grin widened into a genuine smile. "I like to keep an open mind."

"This is a little too open, Bobby. Really."

He laughed softly. "He's probably assumed Lord Ethan's identity. I don't really think he's 200 years old. But I am very interested in finding out who he really is."

Her eyes narrowed at him, but he saw the smile in them as she said, "Dammit, Bobby..."

With a chuckle, he closed his laptop and slid it into the top drawer of his desk. "The answers are at that club, Eames."

"But are those answers going to be available to us?"

"That's what we have to find out." He stood up. "Come on. I'll buy lunch."

"You're on, partner," she said as she put her own computer away and started for the elevator. "I'm in the mood for Chinese."

As they waited for the elevator, he leaned closer and softly said, "I'm in the mood for you."

Her face flushed pink and she elbowed him in the stomach. "Cut it out," she said with a laugh. As the elevator doors opened, she stepped forward and said, "Later."

With a grin, he followed her. She always kept her word.

* * *

**A/N: Just as a matter of record, the title Earl of Cheltenham is fictional. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." --Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5.**


	10. A Tragic Intervention

After work, they stopped at Eames' place so she could change into something more appropriate for _Lager des Teufels_. She chose black slacks and a black silk shirt with heeled boots. But she drew the line at black eyeshadow and lipstick. As she came out of the bedroom, she said, "I hope this is gloomy enough, because this is as good as it gets."

Goren smiled and pulled her into a hug. "I have no complaints," he assured her.

She rested her head on his chest and listened to the steady thumping of his heart. "How important is it for you to understand Ethan and his people?"

"Only as important as it has to be to solve this case," he answered, kissing the top of her head.

After another moment of silence, she pulled back from his embrace and looked at him. "Don't get lost," she said.

He shook his head. "As long as I have you, I won't be going anywhere permanently."

She wasn't fully satisfied by his promise because it still meant he would do what he had to do to get the job done, but on the other hand, he would always come back to her. And it was that bottom line that always gave her hope.

He touched her chin and tipped her face toward his. Gently, he stroked the worry lines that creased her brow. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I know my way back."

He kissed her softly and she gave him another hug. "Let's get this over with."

After a brief stop at his apartment so he could change into a black shirt and jeans, they headed to Soho for the evening.

* * *

Eames parked down the street from the club and got out of the car. She stepped up onto the sidewalk near the front bumper and looked down the block. She felt her partner's presence behind her before his hands came to rest on her waist. "Ready?" he asked.

"This club sets me on edge. It really gives me the creeps and Lord Ethan, or whoever he is, doesn't help matters any. Let's just get this over and done with so we can go home. I'm going to take a nice, long, hot shower."

He groaned softly at the image that conjured in his head and his grip on her waist tightened. He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered, "Can I watch?"

"Even better, you can join me," she answered, enjoying his closeness.

He was tempted to get back in the car and take her up on her offer right away, but his sense of duty overrode his need for pleasure. "Count on it," he growled softly.

She smiled, now familiar with the gruff tone he used when he was frustrated and he wanted her. She turned her head to look at him. Since they were parked midway between two streetlights, his face was cast in shadow from two light sources, but she could see the desire in his eyes and she smiled.

Unexpectedly caught up in her smile, for a moment he couldn't move, couldn't look away. Leaning in, he kissed her. When his tongue teased her lips, she opened her mouth, accepting him as she pressed her body into his. As much as she wanted to lose herself in his arms, she knew better and reluctantly broke the kiss. She stepped back, afraid of losing all sense of perspective...and control. "The sooner we finish here, the sooner we can go home," she said as she ran her fingertips over his lips.

When he caught her fingers with his lips, she made a soft noise that cruised down his spine, straight into his groin, but she moved away and grabbed his hand. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a few slow, deep breaths. Then he let her lead him down the street to the club. She was full of surprises, but nothing caught him more off-guard than his own reaction to her honestly passionate responses to him.

By the time they arrived at the club's front entrance, he had a handle on himself and she was back to business. They went into the club.

Eames suppressed a shudder as they entered the dark club. It was just as busy as it had been the night before, and the patrons seemed to be having a good time, without the reservations that plagued her. She saw no sign of the same reticence in her partner. He was interested, curious...classic Goren. She hid a small smile.

Goren scanned the club. A different bartender worked the bar. Still holding Eames' hand, he led her to a semi-circular booth on the far side of the dance floor. His eyes darted around the room as they walked, and once they had a seat, he had a good look at their surroundings.

Eames slid along the seat until she was beside him and they both had a good vantage point of almost the entire club, including the door to Ethan's office. A waitress approached the booth, smiling from behind dark glasses. "Welcome to _Lager des Teufels_. My name is Sandy. What can I get for you?"

Goren made a motion toward his face with his index finger. "Can you remove the glasses? I like to see a woman's eyes when I talk to her."

With a pleased smile, the young woman slipped the glasses from her face. "There you are, handsome. Now—what can I get for you?"

He looked at Eames and said, "Vodka martini, light on the vermouth?"

When she nodded, he returned his attention to the waitress. The first thing he noticed was her eyes, which were yellow, reminding him of the description they'd been given of Warren's eyes. He smiled and leaned forward, over the table toward her. "Your eyes...they're a very unusual color. The glasses...?"

"I'm very light sensitive, and the glasses prevent headaches. It's why I work at night, too."

"The rest of the wait staff, is it the same for them?"

She nodded. "I guess Ethan looks for a certain type for his staff. Now what can I get for you to drink?"

"Uh, Glenlivet, please. Neat."

"A scotch man..." she purred as she replaced her glasses on her nose. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

They watched her walk away, and Eames said, "A certain type...I wonder what type that might be."

"Warren was a patron, not part of Ethan's staff...and he had the same kind of eyes. Maybe she knows Warren."

Sandy quickly returned, smiling brightly at Goren, which amused Eames. Goren gave her another charming smile as she placed their drinks on the table in front of them. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, honey. Ask away."

"This club was recommended to us by a friend, and we were kind of hoping he'd be here. Maybe you've seen him? His name is Warren."

Sandy's demeanor suddenly became nervous. "Warren? No, I don't think so."

Goren watched her try to steady the tray in her shaking hand. "Is Ethan a difficult man to work for?" he asked.

"No. No, he's not. I'd better check on my other tables."

She hurried away, and Goren looked at his partner. "We got a reaction."

"I'll say. She knows Warren, but she's too frightened to say so. Something about him is taboo around here."

"Like Ethan said, he screwed up so they took care of him."

Eames nodded. "I didn't get the impression that he had Warren killed, though. Maybe he was just sent away, like a little kid being sent to time out."

"Ethan does think of him as being young."

"But what about Ethan himself? He doesn't appear to be much older than Warren must be."

With a shrug, Goren took a drink. "Appearances can be deceiving, Eames."

He returned his attention to the club around them. If he had to come up with a general classification for most of the patrons around him, it would be Goth. Dark hair, pale skin, black makeup, nail polish, clothes. They were young, much younger than he and Eames, although there were several older patrons. As easily as he was able to blend in to most any scene, he felt out of place in the club. But it had nothing to do with his age or his attire. It had more to do with his attitude, with the way he felt when he was with Eames. That was what set him apart from the couples around them. He didn't doubt their ability to feel love, but he wondered how uplifting it could be when it was surrounded by darkness.

While the two detectives made their observations, a minor commotion took place at the bar. The bouncer stepped out of the shadows as an angry man demanded that the bartender take him to Ethan. The bartender motioned for the bouncer to watch the bar as he guided the customer to Ethan's office, bidding him wait in the hallway for a moment as he slipped through the office door.

"Master," he said apologetically. "An angry customer wishes a few words with you."

"About what, Jeremy?"

"He did not say."

"Show him in but attend."

"Yes, sir."

Jeremy led the man into the office. Ethan leaned back in his chair, bracing his elbows on the arms as he tented his fingers in front of him. "How may I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

"You own this devil's den?"

"Devil's Lair, if you will, but yes, I am the owner."

"You hired my girlfriend, Stephanie, last month. I ain't seen her since, until last night, and she...she ain't the same! What did you and your demons do to her?"

"Demons? Really, you could find a less repulsive moniker."

The young man shrieked in frustration. "Answer me, dammit! I want my girl back!"

"If she has chosen to move on, that is hardly my fault."

"I told you, she ain't the same! You did something to her!"

Ethan studied the trembling man. "Jeremy, out in the club, the couple seated at Table 21 are police detectives. Perhaps they could be of some assistance in convincing our friend here to calm down."

Jeremy bowed slightly at the waist and hurried from the office to the table where Goren and Eames were seated. "Please," he said in a hurried tone, obviously unused to trouble. "Lord Ethan requests your assistance with a patron in his office."

The two detectives exchanged looks, and Jeremy practically jumped up and down. "Please!"

Taking the young bartender's panic at face value, they slid from the booth and followed him to the owner's office. By the time they got there, the angry boyfriend had a gun in his shaking hands. Neither Goren nor Eames were prepared for the sight, and her hand went directly to the gun at her hip. Goren, on the other hand, moved forward, into the young man's peripheral vision.

The man shifted, holding the gun so that it covered both Goren and Ethan. Goren held up a hand. "Take it easy, man. Why don't you tell us what's wrong?"

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice practically a shriek.

"We're police officers." Moving his right hand slowly while keeping his left hand in plain sight, he unclipped his badge from his belt and held it out. "I'd feel a lot better if you lowered the gun."

The young man looked at Goren's badge, then at Eames, who held her gun leveled at him. He shook his head. "Not gonna happen. I came here to get my girl or kill the bastard who took her away—him!"

Goren took a couple of tentative steps toward the desk. "What's your name?"

"Roger," he answered. "He did something to my girl! She loved _me_! We were gonna get married. Then she took a job here as a waitress and suddenly I ain't good enough for her!"

As always, Eames marveled at her partner's ability to remain so calm when facing the business end of a gun held by someone determined to use it. She kept her weapon leveled at Roger.

Goren stopped near the desk, keeping Roger's attention on him. "Tell me what you think happened," he encouraged.

Ethan watched the scene unfold, seemingly amused and definitely unruffled. Although Goren showed outward calm, Eames could see the sweat that beaded on his forehead. Ethan, however, could have been watching a play for all the concern he showed. That annoyed her.

Roger's hands were still shaking, and Goren knew that with his finger resting against the trigger the way it was, the gun could go off at any time, intentionally or not. When Roger spoke, there was a note of hysteria in his tone. "She's my girl! Since we were freshmen in high school, she's been mine! Then she comes here to work and suddenly it's all him! No! No! No! He can't have her!"

In that moment, several things happened simultaneously. Ethan rose to his feet, although neither detective understood why. Roger's eyes narrowed with an intent that Goren read, and as Roger shifted his position slightly toward the club owner, Goren reacted.

The office then dissolved into chaos as gunfire shattered the solitude. Goren lunged in front of the desk, positioning himself between Roger and Ethan. Fire burned deep in his chest and then, there was nothing.

Reacting at the same moment as her partner, Eames held her gun level, watching Roger fall to the ground with her bullet in him. As she lowered her weapon, she saw her partner on the floor, a pool of red rapidly growing around him. "Oh, my God...no..." she whispered as panic grabbed her heart. She dropped her weapon and ran toward him. "Call an ambulance!"

From someplace outside her area of awareness, hands grabbed her before she got to Goren. "No!" she shouted as she struggled against the restraining hands. She felt a sharp prick in the side of her neck, and a heavy blanket of darkness enveloped her.


	11. Denizens of the Night

Slowly, the darkness faded to gray. In a half-sleep, Eames turned toward the side of the bed Goren normally occupied, but it was empty. _He must be having trouble sleeping again._ Gradually, the fog faded from her mind and she trembled as her nightmare returned with crystal clarity...the dispute in Ethan's office, Roger firing at Ethan a second before she shot him, Goren on the floor, surrounded by a rapidly growing pool of blood. She had to get to him, to slow the bleeding until an ambulance arrived, but something held her back. She couldn't get to him...

She sat up, her heart racing. This wasn't her bedroom and it wasn't his. She had no idea where she was, and that fed a growing fear that it had not been a nightmare. She caught a movement in the shadows across the room. "Bobby?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear," a soft voice responded from the dark. Ethan emerged into the light cast by a single candle on the bureau near the door. "I will have to do for now."

"Where is my partner?" she insisted, sounding much more confident than she felt.

"He is being cared for. How are you?"

"I want to see him," she replied, ignoring his question.

Ethan sat on the edge of the bed near her. "I'm afraid that is quite impossible at the moment."

Her tone was angry and accusatory. "He was shot...protecting you."

He nodded. "A noble but unnecessary gesture, although he could not know that."

"Where is he?" she repeated, unable to calm herself.

"He is nearby. My dear friend Summer is caring for his chest wound."

Her heart pounded as her agitation increased. "He should be in a hospital!"

Ethan remained calm. "Then he would be dead. He is much better off where he is, where he at least has a chance to survive."

"Take me to him," she demanded.

Ethan smiled that annoyingly calm smile and pressed her back onto the bed. "Not quite yet," he said.

She never saw the syringe, but she felt the needle jab her arm. The drug spread quickly, fogging her mind and setting the room spinning. She relaxed against the pillows. Ethan smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Sleep, my darling," he whispered.

She smiled at him and closed her eyes.

* * *

Eames had absolutely no concept of the passage of time. She faded in and out, aware only that Ethan was there and Goren was not. It could have been days—it might have been weeks—before Ethan finally allowed her to fully waken. Jeremy brought a tray into the room and set it on the nightstand by the bed. He gave her a smile before leaving the room. She sat up and Ethan moved the tray into her lap. "Eat, my dear, and then I will take you to see your friend."

"How is he?"

"He is alive, as you will soon see. Now eat."

She was tempted to refuse the food until he took her to see Goren, but after the first bite, she couldn't stop. She didn't realize how hungry she was. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days."

"That's all? It seems much longer."

"It's all perception."

She finished the filling meal of pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and orange juice. "There. I'm done eating. Now take me to him," she insisted as Ethan removed the tray.

He held out his hand to her. Reluctantly, she took it and slid from the bed. She stopped and looked down at the unfamiliar gray t-shirt and black sweatpants she wore. "These aren't my clothes."

"My apologies. When you fell in my office, you landed beside your friend and I'm afraid your clothes were ruined by his blood, so I obtained clean clothes for you."

"Who changed me into them?"

"You did that for yourself, with minimal help from me. Don't you remember?"

She searched her memory but came up blank. She remembered nothing since Goren was shot. "No. What else don't I remember?"

He laughed and tucked her hand into his arm. "You are a suspicious woman. Come along."

She wanted to pull away from him and slap the smug smile from his face, but her main priority was getting to her partner. She would deal with Ethan later.

The hallway was as dimly lit as the bedroom had been. Her head was still foggy and the floor occasionally tilted, so she reluctantly held onto Ethan's arm. All she wanted at the moment was Goren, to see for herself that he was still alive, as Ethan said. The hallway seemed to stretch forever, but finally, Ethan stopped. "Before we go in, I must warn you. His injury was lethal. As it was, by the time we got him here, it was almost too late. Summer has spent most of her time since that first night fighting to keep him alive."

"Summer? Who is Summer? Is she a doctor?"

"Not a doctor, no, but she is a skilled healer. In life, she was an empath, one who could experience the emotions of others. After she was converted, we discovered her empathy had given her a great healing skill. He should have died and might still. His only chance for survival is through Summer."

Eames leaned against the wall beside a door, her head spinning. She forced her mind away from losing Goren, focusing more on Ethan's description of Summer's ability. "What do you mean 'in life'? What are you talking about, Ethan?"

Too late, he realized he had misspoken, that he was not speaking to one of his own. "Come, my dear. I will explain, but not here. Your lover is in this room."

She did not dispute his use of the term 'lover'. After all, it was accurate. Briefly, she wondered if it was that obvious, but greater concerns stomped that one out of existence as Ethan opened the door beside her.

Two candles provided the large bedroom with its only illumination; there were no windows. From seemingly out of nowhere, a tall, elegant woman approached them. Ethan kissed her cheek and spoke in hushed tones. "Summer, darling. How is he?"

"Resting. To his credit, he is a fighter, but he's running a fever now, and that drains what little strength he has. Can you stay with him for a short while, Ethan? I need some herbs."

"Of course. And get something to eat."

She gave him a tired smile, then looked at Eames. "You are the woman who was with him. Is your name Alex?"

"Yes, it is. Why?"

"Three times, he has been close to consciousness. In his delirium, he has called for you. You should stay here, if you are able."

Eames looked toward the bed, which was in deep shadow. "I'll stay."

Nodding her approval, Summer glided from the room. The only word that came to Eames' mind to describe Summer was stunning. With long, dark hair and patrician features, she moved with a cat-like grace and dignity. But thoughts of Summer quickly slipped away as Eames drew closer to the bed. Goren lay there, a light blanket covering him to his waist. His torso was bare, except for a white bandage that hugged his chest and upper abdomen. "Bobby..." she whispered, reaching out to stroke his arm and fold her hand around his.

Deeply unconscious, he did not respond. She had never seen him so still, and her eyes flooded with tears. Ethan moved closer and slipped his arm around her shoulders in a comforting hug. She was too upset to object. His soft voice with its lilting accent offered further comfort, which she accepted. "The bedroom where you woke is yours for the duration of your stay, but if you prefer, you may remain here with him. We will bring meals to you. I should also tell you that your people are looking for you. They have been to the club, asking questions. My people will say nothing, and you are safe here. All I ask is that you give Summer the chance to save his life as his seems to be a life worth saving. You may leave, if you choose to go, but understand--your doctors cannot save him."

In spite of her gratitude to him for making the effort to save Goren, his words angered her. She released Goren's hand and stepped away from Ethan, saying, "Who are you to judge if a life is worth saving?"

Amused by her anger, Ethan explained, "We are not governed by the same ethics you are, my dear. We are neither good nor bad. We simply are. The affairs of your people do not concern me. If he had died in my office, as Roger did, it would have been no matter to me. But he proved himself to be a man of principles, not prone to empty gestures. He offered his life for mine. The least I could do is give him a chance to survive, which I did when I called upon Summer for this favor. Both men had mortal wounds, and it was his life I chose to save. You object to that?"

"Of course not," she snapped.

She wasn't sure what to make of Ethan and his people, but she believed him when he said Goren's injury was lethal. She had seen the rapidly growing pool of blood beneath him after he'd fallen. They had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, by staying where they were and letting Summer heal him if she could. It took a leap of faith on Eames' part to trust Ethan, which was something she was not prone to do. But Goren was still alive and that drove away her reluctance to trust the club owner. For Goren's sake, and his alone, she would trust Ethan. She had no other choice...but she wanted answers. "Tell me what you meant by what you said out in the hall," she demanded.

Ethan drew two chairs closer to the bed and sat down, waiting for her to take the seat closest to her partner. He considered his words carefully. "Popular culture would call us one thing, but we prefer to think of ourselves as denizens of the night."

Eames frowned. "Denizens of the night? You mean like vampires, werewolves and zombies?"

He laughed. "Not exactly. Hollywood and folklore have painted certain pictures of the vampire, the werewolf, the zombie and others that have become popular belief. I cannot vouch for those, since I have never met such creatures. We do not turn into bats and seek blood meals from unsuspecting victims or howl at the full moon."

He laughed again, and she almost joined him. It did seem absurd, but then she heard Goren's voice in her head, quoting Shakespeare: _There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy._ Ethan continued, "We do prefer to do our business after the sun has set and rarely venture out in the full light of day. If we must transact business that cannot be completed between dusk and dawn, we will wait for an overcast day to take care of it. Sunlight will not harm us; we simply find bright light excessively uncomfortable to the point of being painful. We eat regular meals, as you do. I love a good steak as much as the next man. Jeremy is an accomplished chef and he enjoys seafood while Summer is a vegetarian. We do not require blood meals to survive. But blood is a vital fluid for us. It nourishes our souls, not our bodies. There are those few among us, like Summer, for whom blood is an element of healing. But for most of us, blood is tied to pleasure."

Eames turned her head toward her partner, so close to death, and she could not forget why they were there. The woman in her felt a surge of protective anxiety for Goren's life, but the cop in her felt compelled to continue their investigation. She returned her attention to Ethan. "Do you know what happened to Amy Petrakos?"

Ethan let out a soft sigh. "Poor dear Amy. I only met her once, but Warren was quite taken with her. They discovered great pleasure with one another. But Warren forgot himself in the midst of his passion and got carried away. He has learned from his mistake, as we all must. It is unfortunate, though, that he had to find love before he knew what he was doing. There may never be another like her for him."

She stared at him, seething. "So all Amy's death represents for you is Warren's mistake?"

He seemed baffled by her anger. "To what end would a show of insincere grief from me be? Warren did not mean to harm her. It is unfortunate, but it happened. It's over and done with, and so we move on."

"You are very callous," she accused.

"To you, I may seem that way, but I prefer to think of myself as a realist. There is something about us you need to understand, darling. We have traded our mortal lives for an eternity of pleasure. There is no pain, no regret, no longing. We live in the moment with no thought for the past, no eye to the future. For most of us, it's about being with whoever we are with at the moment and nothing more. Warren has only been one of us for a couple of years, and he should have come to me before taking Amy to his bed. She was the first mortal woman he has had since his conversion, so he is very inexperienced."

Eames frowned. "Conversion? What do you mean by that?"

"I refer to the transition from mortal to immortal, being turned from one of you into one of us."

Her expression reflected skepticism, but she had learned from her partner to ask questions first and scoff later. She glanced toward him, as though seeking support. Goren rarely ever scoffed at alien belief systems. Instead, he sought to understand them. She wasn't as successful at acceptance as he was, but she made an extra effort with Ethan. When she turned back to him, she tried to keep her voice level, seeking information while trying not to judge. "How does that happen?"

Ethan decided there was no harm in being open with her. She knew of their existence; nothing bad would come of trying to explain himself and those like him to her. He had no fear of the mortal justice system she represented. "It is a process that involves a number of blood transfers over a period of time, which varies according to the person."

She felt the color leave her face. "Blood...transfers?"

"Usually, but not necessarily, during sex. My immortal gives blood to your mortal and then takes blood in return."

Eames swallowed bile as she struggled to maintain her composure. Pieces suddenly fell into place. "The marks on Amy's neck..."

Ethan smiled, baring his teeth. Instead of the stunted canines of mortal humans, his were extended, tapering to a point. Before her eyes, though, the sharp teeth retracted. "There are few among us who can bring them forth at will. Otherwise, they only extend during sex."

She sat back, away from him, unable to hide her reaction. She fisted her hands to keep them from trembling. "And...your eyes...?"

He continued to smile, his teeth still white and straight and normal. "You noticed."

"It's hard to miss. Yellow isn't a natural color for human eyes."

"True. It's the only outward sign of who we are. The invention of colored contacts makes it easier for us to mingle in your world, although few of us choose to do so. As I told you, bright light is painful. Dark glasses are a must, even in the club, where the lighting is so subdued."

"So everyone who works for you..."

He nodded. "...is one of us, yes."

"What about Stephanie?"

"Stephanie and Roger first came into the club about six months ago. Roger didn't particularly enjoy the scene, but Stephanie loved it. She continued to return without him, and she began to see Jeremy. He was the one who converted her over the past few months, and she was obviously successful at hiding what was happening from Roger. She began working for me last month, after her conversion was complete. As you heard from Roger, he has not seen her since then. She has been living here at the mansion, sharing a room with Jeremy." He studied her expression. "Trust me when I tell you conversions are rare. Over the last five years, we have brought fewer than a dozen people into our, uh, community. No one is ever converted against his will."

She waved her hand. "You all live here?"

"Those of us in this area do, yes. It is legally owned and paid for, the taxes are current and there is never any trouble here. If you follow my business dealings, you will see that I turn a nice profit from my clubs, much of which I donate to charitable organizations."

"To keep you off the radar."

"My dear, you are a smart woman."

She continued to ignore his tendency to address her with terms of endearment. For her wounded partner's sake, she could not afford to anger Ethan, but she could not forget what ultimately brought them into his club. "Warren killed Amy, Ethan!"

Ethan studied her patiently. You couldn't take the cop from the woman—he wondered if it was possible to take the woman from the cop. He leaned forward, his yellow eyes glowing gold in the candlelight. "Contrary to what you might believe, there are relatively few of us. The chance for true love doesn't come along very often, and when it crosses cultures like that..." He shrugged. "I feel badly for Warren. He still grieves, which is unusual for us, but again, he is young."

"Are you telling me that what happened with Amy was an accident?"

"Of course it was, dear. It is very easy for a new denizen to become...overzealous, especially during sex. With another denizen, there are no issues, but with a mortal...taking blood can be very tricky. There is a point of no return and a point of no recovery. Amy was in no danger of approaching the point of no return, since that requires a number of sessions over time. But the point of no recovery exists for a mortal during every encounter. Warren lost control and unfortunately took Amy past the point of no recovery. But he will learn."

"And the damage to her throat? Was that a result of his overzealousness?"

Ethan looked confused. "Damage? You mean the bite marks?"

Eames got the impression Ethan did not know the details of Amy's condition when they found her. "Her throat was torn out. She was found shortly after she was murdered and dumped, so don't try to tell me it was rodent activity. Rats don't work that fast."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, a troubled look on his face. "Oh, Warren," he muttered, shaking his head as he looked past her. Then his eyes shifted back to her and the troubled look melted away. "I had no idea. I'm afraid that would have been the result of Warren's panic. If he had only come to me...Ah, well, what's done is done. It was a very unfortunate incident all the way around."

Appalled by his nonchalant attitude, Eames stuck to her guns, once again hiding her reaction behind a professional facade. "Where is Warren, Ethan?"

His smile returned. "You know I cannot tell you that. But he is no longer in the area. He has gone to be with the Elders, to receive more training on how to properly interact with people outside our group, and to be counseled for his grief. He will also be required to make reparations for what he's done, even though it was accidental and personally devastating. But his punishment will be up to the Elders, not me."

"The Elders?"

"The Council of the Elders, our governing body, if you will. The youngest among them was born into life in 1682, and the Magistrate was converted as a direct consequence of the Battle of Hastings in 1066. He was a lieutenant under King Harold, who also died in the battle."

Eames stared at him, stunned into silence for a moment. She didn't want to believe Ethan, but she did. She really missed Goren. He would take Ethan's information in stride with intense interest. Finally, she said, "You really should be talking to my partner. He is a lot more open to this kind of thing than I am."

"It is unconventional," he admitted.

"And creepy," she replied.

His amused laughter surprised her. "I admit, it's a lot to take in."

She looked at her partner, who was barely breathing. She had to change the subject. Any more talk of thousand-year-old magistrates and converting people into...whatever Ethan was, and her head would explode. Seeking a more grounded topic, one she had a definite interest in, she said, "He was mortally wounded." She did not doubt that. "So why is he still alive? How can Summer save a life that doctors can't?"

"I have never watched her, so I don't know what she does. Since I have known her, she has healed very few people, but each of them had sustained a mortal wound similar to his. I do not know the circumstances surrounding the other mortals she saved, but she agreed to try to save him only because I asked her."

Eames frowned. A reluctant healer? "It's not something she would normally do?"

"Summer has no obligations as a healer or as a woman. She could have refused my request without reprisal. If you want to know her motivation, you will have to ask her, but normally, no, she would not have involved herself with anything that happened in my club. She has no interest in my dealings with the general population."

Eames' head was spinning from everything Ethan had told her. She looked at Goren, wishing she could talk to him. Somehow he would make sense of everything. Rising, she sat on the edge of the bed and rested her hand on his chest, above the bandages. His skin was hot, and she remembered Summer saying he was running a fever.

Ethan rose and moved one of the candles to the bedside, squinting against the light it cast. She could see Goren's face better. In spite of the fever, he was pale, but he seemed to be resting comfortably. Sitting on the bed beside him, she noticed a small bruise just below his collarbone, and she remembered putting it there. Her face softened into a smile as she recalled his response. She ran her fingers over the bruise, surprised when he made a soft noise. His breathing rate increased and he shifted in response to his pain.

She looked toward his face, frowning when she noticed a mark on his neck. Unsure if it was a shadow in the candlelight, she leaned in closer, gently lifting his chin to get a better look. It was no shadow. There were two small marks, about an inch and a half apart, located directly over the pulse point on the right side of his throat. Gently, she ran her fingers over the marks.

He shifted again, turning his head toward her, and he groaned. Her gut tightened. She recognized the soft noise he made; it was not a groan of pain. Tearful, she stroked his cheek with her fingertips and whispered his name. He relaxed, settling back into the abyss of deep unconsciousness, and he made no further noise.

Eames spun away from him, toward Ethan. "What is she doing to him?" she demanded, sliding off the bed and advancing on the club owner.

"She is saving his life," he answered, not understanding why she was upset. "She will only do as much as she needs to do, no more and no less."

"Suppose there's another 'accident'?" she snapped, struggling to keep her mind away from images of how the marks got on his neck.

Understanding dawned and he looked toward the man on the bed. Then he looked back at Eames and attempted to reassure her. "There is no need for you to fear the same fate for your lover. Summer is well experienced. She will not make the same mistake that Warren did." He studied her expression, then smiled, which irritated her even more. "If you are concerned about what I said regarding blood and sex, you may set your fears to rest. Summer has not had sex with him. He is too weak for it, and she doesn't like mortals."

She felt hot tears spill onto her cheeks and she was angry at herself for showing any sign of weakness in front of this man. She continued to glare at Ethan while he looked back at her calmly. He liked this fiery woman and saw her tears as a sign of deep caring, not weakness. He could feel the heat of her anger rolling off her in waves. "He lives," he said quietly. "He has no better chance for survival than the chance Summer gives him."

Before Eames could answer, Summer returned, carrying a tray containing a teapot, a cup and several small jars. She saw Ethan facing off against the small, angry woman and she smiled. "Have you finally met your match, Ethan?" she asked as she set the tray on a nearby table.

Ethan turned away from Eames with a laugh. "Not yet, Summer."

Eames decided to confront Summer directly. "I want to know what you've done to him."

Summer studied Eames with cold, quiet eyes. "I have done nothing I did not need to do. I am saving his life. He is not out of danger yet, however, if you wish, I will back off and you are free to take him to your doctors. They can keep him in their germ-infested hospitals and give him their narcotics to ease his pain and their concoctions to fight his fever until he dies. With no promises of recovery from them, you cannot hold them liable after you bury him. If I can pull him out of danger, then I can promise you, he will recover--quickly and completely. The choice is yours."

Eames was afraid she was right, that if she took him to a hospital, he would die. He should have died in Ethan's office, but he didn't. He was still alive, which was a testament to Summer's healing power. Eames looked again toward Goren. "You are not harming him?"

Summer smiled, but there was no warmth in her face. "No. Ethan asked me to save him. I do only what I must to do that."

Eames swallowed her anger as best she could as Summer turned back to the table and began steeping herbs in the hot water from the teapot. Glancing over her shoulder, Summer called to Ethan and spoke to him in hushed tones. Ethan nodded, then approached Eames. "Why don't you come with me for a bit? I'll show you around the house."

Eames looked at Summer, then at Goren. "Why?"

"Summer needs to work without distraction. We will return and then you may stay with him."

"Is there something you don't want me to see?"

"Summer must work in solitude. You have trusted me so far. Trust me now. She will not harm him."

Eames hesitated for another moment before leaning down to give Goren a soft kiss, wishing he would return it. Her fingers stroked the side of his face before she stepped away from the bed. Reluctantly, she left the room with Ethan.


	12. Returning Awareness

When Ethan brought Eames back to the room, Summer was at the table, cleaning up her supplies. Eames crossed the room in silence and sat on the edge of the bed, laying a gentle hand on Goren's stomach, just below the bandages. His skin was still hot and dry, his breathing very shallow but rapid. She knew Ethan was watching her, but she did not care. "Is he...any better?" she asked without addressing the question to anyone specific.

After a brief silence, Summer answered, "He lives."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Another brief pause and the healer said, "Every hour that passes is a good sign. Every breath brings him closer to recovery. With every heartbeat, he heals."

"So that would be a yes?" Eames asked.

Summer approached, carrying a plastic box, which she set on the bed. "You may interpret it as you will. The last thing I must do right now is treat his wound. He doesn't like this, but it is necessary to prevent infection and heal the wound. It is during these treatments that he comes closest to consciousness."

"Does it hurt him?"

"I am not sure. It shouldn't, but I don't know exactly what he feels. I lost my ability as an empath when I was converted."

With a gentle touch, Summer removed the bandages. Eames expected to see a red, angry gunshot wound, but that was not what she found when the dressing came off. There were two wounds, one in his chest and a larger one on his side. _Entrance and exit wounds,_ she realized, and her heart grew heavy. _The bullet ricocheted in his chest._

She knew the damage would have been extensive, and yet, he was still alive. Her respect for Summer's healing skill increased exponentially. Goren should have died, and she owed the healer a huge debt for saving him. Both wounds in his chest showed signs of extensive healing, much more than she would have expected over three days.

Summer retrieved a bowl from the table and set it on the nightstand. She dipped a clean white cloth into the hot liquid in the bowl, wrung it out and dabbed each wound with it. With a soft groan, Goren shifted. Eames moved closer to him, soothing him as she stroked his forehead. His breathing changed, becoming less even, and he groaned again. In a soft voice, barely a whisper, he called her name.

Leaning close, she spoke softly. "It's okay, Bobby. I'm right here."

Responding to her voice, he shifted again, closer to her, until his head rested against her side. Only then did he settle. His breathing evened out and he relaxed against her. She cradled his head, watching Summer clean and dress his wounds. "What is that?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bowl.

"Antiseptic. Tea tree oil infused with goldenseal. It is effective." She removed dressing supplies from the box. "He no longer bleeds, so a pressure dressing is unnecessary. It is the damage inside and the fever that drain his strength, but he heals. He was aware enough to recognize you and respond to you. That is improvement."

She removed the bowl and then the box of dressing supplies. Taking the tray from the table, she said, "Since you are here, I will take this away. I will return shortly."

She left without waiting to be acknowledged. Ethan smiled his calm smile. "I will leave you alone for now. If you need anything, call for Gerald. He is nearby and he will hear you."

Barely acknowledging Ethan, Eames returned her attention to Goren. He seemed to be resting comfortably. Suddenly exhausted, she stretched out beside him, resting her forehead against the side of his head and draping her arm across his upper chest, well away from his wounds. He stirred for a moment, but did not make a sound. She nestled against his body, and he finally made a soft noise. She smiled. He was content. She let herself drift to sleep.

* * *

Unable to tell day from night in the darkness of the room, Eames could not judge how much time passed as she remained at Goren's side, except for the times Summer needed to work alone. She still wasn't sure about the mysterious healer. Goren continued to heal and grow stronger, but she did not like the marks on his neck, which seemed to fade until he was left alone with Summer again.

Although he remained deeply unconscious most of the time, Goren was growing more aware of his surroundings. He grew restless when Eames left his side, settling only when she returned. When she spoke, he responded to her voice, usually by making a soft noise. Neither Summer nor Ethan received any response from him, except for the times Summer treated his wounds. Eames also noticed that, although she was diligent, Summer rarely ever touched him. The only contact Goren ever sought was with Eames.

* * *

Propped up in the bed beside her partner, Eames closed the book Ethan had brought her—a worn copy of Jane Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_—and turned off the book light when the door opened. Summer entered with her tray of herbs followed by Ethan, who motioned to her. Eames leaned down and kissed Goren, whispering into his ear, "I'll be back."

She slid from the bed and silently left the room with Ethan. Summer prepared her herbal brew, carefully activating the healing ingredients with her own blood. She carried the cup to the bed.

Goren was beginning to surface from the depths of his coma as the inky darkness faded to dark gray. Absolute silence gave way to muffled sounds. His awareness, however, was eclipsed by pain. Every breath he drew sent fire shooting through his chest. He shifted with a groan, seeking some refuge from the pain. Fingertips lightly stroked the hot skin of his chest as someone gently slid an arm beneath his head, easing it off the pillows. The rim of a cup touched his lips and a soft voice coaxed him to drink, which he did. The salty bitterness barely registered through the haze of pain that enveloped him. Once the cup was removed and he was eased back onto the pillows, the pain subsided. Someone drew closer to him on the bed. "Alex...?" he whispered.

A curtain of hair brushed over his skin, but it wasn't Eames. Unfamiliar lips brushed across his neck, somehow chasing away more of the pain. He tipped his head, opening himself to more. A warm tongue sent a shiver of unexplained anticipation through him and he softly groaned. Another stroke preceded a sharp, stabbing pain that vanished almost instantly, followed by an odd sensation and an undeniable surge of intense pleasure. With another groan, he gave in to it, and the rest of his pain faded. He drifted back into the darkness.

* * *

When the darkness receded and the pain returned, it was not as severe. He could breathe more easily without sending pain firing through his chest. As he struggled to work his way free of the ever-looming darkness, he moved, groaning softly as the pain flared. Soft cool hands stroked his hot skin and soft lips brushed across his forehead...a familiar, welcome touch. "Alex..." he whispered on a groan.

She made a soft sound and her mouth closed over his. She was still there, still with him. She gently broke the kiss and leaned back, but he became agitated, assaulted by an unexplained panic. The pain in his chest worsened. "D-Don't go," he managed, his voice barely a whisper.

She leaned down and brushed her lips over his. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

He felt the darkness encroaching once again. "Alex..." he repeated, but he didn't have the energy to say more.

She stroked his fevered skin, softly kissed him. He tasted the salt of her tears and he slipped away again.

Eames sat back and wiped her face. He was still with her. She took his hand and watched his chest slowly rise and fall. Softly, she repeated his words back to him. "Please, Bobby. Don't go."

* * *

Pain bit into his chest through the darkness, driving him toward consciousness. He groaned and shifted, seeking a position away from the pain. He couldn't find one. Nearby, someone spoke his name. He turned toward the sound. "Alex..." he murmured, groaning deeply when the vibration of his voice in his chest initiated a new wave of pain.

"Shhh," she soothed, sitting on the bed beside him and stroking his forehead.

He slowly forced his eyes open halfway, seeking her face in the dim light. "Are you...all right?" he asked, his voice barely audible as he reached out to touch her.

She caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek, amazed that his first concern was for her. "Yes, I'm fine."

She leaned down and gently kissed him. He raised his hand, touching her jawline with his fingertips. Slowly, she pulled back. "You need to rest," she said softly. "Save your strength for healing. I'll be right here."

His hand slipped from her chin and she caught it, bringing it to rest against her chest. His thumb brushed over the inner side of one breast and she touched his cheek with her other hand. Turning his head, he kissed her palm. When he looked back at her, she smiled but her eyes were bright with tears. "Alex..." he repeated, his voice failing with his strength.

She leaned down to kiss him again, and she knew the moment he slipped back into unconsciousness. Only then did she allow her tears to freely fall as she laid on the bed beside him and rested her head against his shoulder. "Oh, Bobby..." she whispered softly.

He made a soft noise and turned toward her. Only then did she realize he was sleeping and not lost in the oblivion of unconsciousness. It also meant he was aware of his pain, making his sleep restless.

Summer chose that moment to enter the room with her tea tray. Ethan slid soundlessly into the room behind her. "Come, my dear, so Summer may work. Jeremy is fixing lunch, and it is such a delight to watch him work in the kitchen."

Eames hesitated before she slid from the bed. Goren sensed her departure and his sleep became more restless. She watched him for a moment before following Ethan from the room.

* * *

She had to admit, Jeremy did have flare. He chopped and diced with speed and confidence. He showed no hesitation as he prepared the meal, clearly enjoying his audience. The plate that he set in front of her was beautiful. More than that, though, it was delicious. "This is amazing," she commented, trying not to sound surprised. "What is it?"

Jeremy smiled, delighted that she was enjoying what he'd prepared. "It's pan seared Chilean sea bass with fresh mushroom and green and red pepper risotto and a spinach salad with raspberry vinaigrette."

Ethan was also delighted. "Jeremy could hold his own with the best of your chefs," he said with a laugh. "We eat fantastically well when he is home."

Jeremy beamed at Ethan's praise. "While your lover heals, I will prepare good, healthy food for him so he will recover quickly."

Eames choked up unexpectedly at Jeremy's kind thoughtfulness. She swallowed the lump in her throat and answered, "That's very kind, Jeremy. He'll enjoy that very much."

"Is he a connoisseur?"

"No, he just likes to eat," she said lightly, and the two men laughed. She smiled, almost against her will. "Actually, he's very good in the kitchen. He always surprises me."

"And he will continue to do so," Ethan promised.

She finished her meal in silence while Ethan helped Jeremy clean up the kitchen. When she was done, Jeremy cleared away her plate and Ethan rested his hand on her back. "Shall we go back upstairs and check on the progress your friend has made?"

"I don't expect a huge improvement over an hour's time, Ethan."

When they returned to the room, Summer was putting away her supplies. She looked over her shoulder as Eames sat on the edge of the bed and tenderly caressed her partner's face. Glancing at Ethan, she said, "He is growing stronger. He will not need me much longer."

"Yet he sleeps."

"He heals, Ethan. He needs as much rest as his body can get. He will waken when he is ready. Be patient."

Ethan smiled. "It isn't my patience he taxes, Summer."

Amused, Summer returned his smile.

* * *

The next time Goren woke, Eames was once again sitting in the bed beside him, with the book light positioned above her book, reading. His fever had not yet broken, but the pain in his chest wasn't as bad. He woke slowly and looked up at her. Placing his hand on her thigh, he smiled weakly.

Surprised, she looked down into his face, returning his smile. But her smile didn't last for long. She set her book aside and moved the book light so she could get a good view of his eyes. She touched his cheek.

His skin was still hot to the touch but his eyes, though glazed with fever, had changed. Fear clutched at her heart. No longer their usual dark brown, his eyes had become more the shade of honeyed amber. "No," she whispered. "Please no..."

He squinted against the light. "What...what's wrong?"

Recovering quickly, she leaned down to kiss his damp forehead. "Nothing's wrong. Your eyes are more...bloodshot than I expected. How do you feel?"

"Wiped out," he muttered. "Hot and cold...and I...I hurt."

As she stroked the side of his face, his eyes began to close. "Rest," she whispered.

He shifted closer to her, settling his head against her stomach with his cheek resting on her thigh and his hand, on her knee. He sighed softly and went back to sleep. She ran her fingers through his hair and swallowed the lump in her throat. His eyes were changing...


	13. Continued Recovery and More Answers

**A/N: I think I caught any inconsistencies over the course of the chapter. I hate piecing together scenes that were not written in order, so I can understand the inconsistencies we all notice from time to time. It's not usually the way I write, so I hope I have pieced it together seamlessly. Enjoy!**

* * *

Eames could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the image of her partner's eyes in her mind. After tossing and turning for too long, she edged away from Goren's body, which was damp with sweat, and slid out of the bed. He grunted softly, shifting toward her side of the bed. Then he groaned, resting his arm over the still warm sheets she had just abandoned.

She could not resist leaning over and kissing his temple. "I'll be right back," she whispered.

He seemed to relax, and she left the room. Once in the hallway, she looked around, not sure which way to go to find Ethan. "Ethan!" she called.

She listened for a sound in the silence, for a door opening or footsteps in the hall. Just as she prepared to call for him again, she saw him. He was pulling closed his robe, tying it at the waist. "You called, my darling?"

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that," she snapped.

Ethan laughed. "My apologies. It is a habit. How may I help you?"

"You can explain something to me. What the hell is happening to my partner?"

He looked confused. "He is recovering."

"His eyes, Ethan!" she demanded, very close to losing her patience. "What the hell is happening with his eyes?!"

Ethan didn't answer immediately. Finally, he said, "Let's not discuss this here in the hall."

"You said she was not going to convert him without his consent! How could he give consent in his condition?"

_How could he consent without talking to me..._

Ethan touched her arm and motioned toward the door. "Please, wait for me. I will change and be right back. Then I will explain."

Clearly not satisfied, she nevertheless went back into the room and waited. Ethan returned quickly. "Now, you are upset..." he began.

"Yes, I'm upset! I have given you the benefit of every doubt, Ethan! I am tired of being led around in circles!"

"Nothing I have told you is untrue. Summer's aim is not to convert him. Her only intent is to save his life."

She stood face to face with Ethan, struggling to keep her voice down so she wouldn't waken Goren. "His eyes are changing, Ethan! If she is not converting him, why are they changing?"

His mood lightened and he chuckled. Eames almost hit him. "Relax, my dear. His survival relies on a partial transition, so that he may heal as we do. Once he recovers and no longer needs Summer's intervention, his eyes will return to normal. In short order, he will be as human as he was the day he was born. If Summer meant to convert him, he would already have passed the point of no return, but he has not." He looked toward the bed, where Goren was restless. "He still feels pain, so he is still human."

"You said it took six weeks for Jeremy to convert Stephanie."

"The length of time is less important than the number of transfers and the amount of blood exchanged. Jeremy was only with Stephanie once or twice a week in the beginning, with several exchanges per session. They were together more often as her conversion became imminent. Summer has exchanged blood with your friend several times a day, but in small amounts after the initial exchange. She could have already converted him if she took enough blood per session, but he would not survive that kind of stress to his system. As I have told you, she does only what she must to save his life. I did not lie to you. No one is converted against his will. You are correct. In his condition, he has no way to express his will. Summer will not convert him without his knowledge."

She turned from Ethan and walked to the bed, her mind turning furiously at the implications of what was being offered. A world with no pain, no regrets... That was something Goren had never known. How could he possibly say no to such an offer?

"Suppose he wakes up and decides he..." She almost choked on the words. "...wants it?"

"Then Summer can quickly complete the process."

"What about me? You would make him leave me behind, wouldn't you?"

Ethan's expression softened. "I do not tell my people what to do. He would be free to live his life however he chose. He would not have to leave you. There are few of my people who choose to live in your world, but some do." He studied her with interest. "Do you think he will choose conversion?"

Eames looked at the bed. When had she ever been able to predict Goren's actions or understand his motivation? Not with Mike McShale or John Tagman. Not with Nelda Carlson or Nicole Wallace. She seemed to always be trying to catch up to him, until he would finally take a pause and draw her in, filling in the gaps when his mind jumped from A to D. He had never intentionally left her behind. He'd asked for her indulgence and her patience as he worked things out in his head, but he never left her behind. However, that did not mean he wouldn't choose to do so now. "I don't know. If she converts him, does that tie him to her?"

Ethan sighed and leaned against the side of the bed. "Whether or not she converts him, there will be a connection, yes. But once the blood exchanges stop, the connection will fade over time."

As though on cue, the door opened and Summer entered the room, carrying her tray of herbs and tea. She gave no greeting, as usual, and set right to work preparing her concoction. "Summer, my dear," Ethan said. "Our guest is concerned with your ties to her lover."

Summer looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "What ties?"

"You have exchanged blood with him, darling. You know there is a bond that stems from that."

Summer laughed, and Eames, although annoyed, found it a pleasant laugh. The healer turned back to her brew. "That will fade." She worked silently for a few moments before she turned to Eames. "You have nothing to fear from me. I am a healer, not a spell-caster. He will not require my intervention much longer, and then I will be done with him."

Eames studied her warily. "But if you wanted him..."

Summer smiled her cold, dark smile. "He would not refuse me. But I do not like mortals, and I do not want him. I do this only because he thought he was protecting Ethan. I am neither noble nor altruistic. I am practical, and Ethan is important to me. When I am done with him, I have business elsewhere, so I will not even be around. This man is yours."

Eames felt oddly reassured. She crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, watching him sleep. Ethan stepped up to her and touched her shoulder. "Come, my dear. Summer needs to work."

"Suppose I wanted to stay?"

Her question surprised Ethan, and he looked at Summer, who shrugged. "Stay or go. I have nothing to hide."

She added boiling water to the pulverized herbs, allowing them to steep. Eames watched her, until Summer lifted a knife and cut her arm, dripping blood into the cup. She rose. Maybe Ethan was right and it was best to leave Summer to do her thing alone.

She leaned over and kissed Goren's forehead. His skin was cooler to the touch, and he was resting more comfortably. She touched his lips lightly with hers, surprised that he returned her kiss, even in his sleep. Each day brought new reassurances to her. With a brief caress along his cheek, she straightened away from him and left the room.

Ethan followed her, looking amused. "You do not like blood?"

"Blood belongs in the body. It's not a beverage."

Ethan laughed. "True. But it isn't as repulsive as you make it out to be. I could..."

"No, you can't. Just steer your mind down another path, Ethan."

He laughed. "As you wish. Shall we make our way to the kitchen, then? It is lunch time and I believe Jeremy is preparing crab ravioli in a delicate sauce for lunch."

Her stomach growled at the thought of another one of Jeremy's wonderful meals. She picked up her step just a little, and Ethan smiled.

* * *

When they returned, Summer was preparing to cleanse Goren's wounds. Eames crossed to the bed and sat by him, resting back against the pillows. He shifted when she sat down, moving toward her. She smiled when he nestled against her thigh. Summer carried her antiseptic wash to the nightstand. "He does bear his pain well," she commented as she began to remove his bandages.

Eames nodded. "He's had a lot of practice, bearing pain."

Summer made a noise that Eames could not interpret, but she let it go. She hated the power that Summer seemed to have, the power over life and death for Goren, and she could not take the chance of angering her. She noticed that Summer's arm, where she had cut herself to bleed into her herbal brew, was completely healed. Turning her attention to Goren's wounds as Summer bathed them in the antiseptic wash, she was shocked to see that the entrance wound was almost healed and the other one wasn't far behind it. "How long ago was he shot?"

"Five days," Ethan answered.

Eames was surprised. Only _five _days?

"His fever has broken," Summer commented. "He has healed well enough inside that it no longer threatens his life. He will continue to heal quickly and will need only another day or two of treatments from me."

"Unless he chooses conversion," Ethan said.

Summer looked at him. "I will not wait around for him to decide if he hasn't by the time I leave. You will be responsible for him after that, Ethan."

Ethan nodded. "I will accept that responsibility."

Eames looked between the two. "What does _that_ mean?"

"I will exchange blood with Summer before she leaves. Then I will be able to convert him, if he wishes it."

She didn't quite know what to make of that. Although they had been partners for years, their intimate relationship was fairly new and she wasn't as secure in it as she might otherwise have been. In many circumstances, she could predict what Goren might do. This, unfortunately, was not one of them.

She turned her attention back toward her partner while Summer rinsed her cloth in the antiseptic mixture. He snuggled a little more into her thigh as Summer cleansed his wounds. With a smile, Eames stroked his hair. "He rests much more easily when you are near," Summer observed.

"He knows me."

"It is more than recognition, a deeper connection. Ethan said you are lovers?"

"Yes." It was not easy for her to openly admit the true nature of her relationship with Goren, but she attributed that to years of denying her attraction to him. "Yes," she repeated. "We are."

Summer nodded. "His attachment to you is deep," she said. "Far deeper than one usually finds among simple lovers."

Eames studied her, wondering if some of her empathic ability might yet be intact. "There is nothing simple about him," she responded.

Summer's mouth moved as she dipped the cloth back into the antiseptic. "He knows your touch from all others. Watch."

She reached out and ran her fingertips over his chest, intimately, in small, gentle circles. Eames felt anger rise in her chest and she grew tense. Goren pressed closer, nuzzling her thigh. "He reacts to your tension." Summer motioned to Ethan. "Do as I just did."

Ethan stepped up and copied the gentle circles Summer had traced over Goren's chest. There was no reaction. The corner of Summer's mouth arched upward in an imitation of a half-smile. "Now you," she said to Eames.

As soon as her fingers began to moved over his skin, he reacted. Shifting even closer to her, his arm slipped around her waist and he pressed his forehead against her hip. Her expression was tender, and so were her memories. He adopted this same position many nights when she chose to read once he drifted to sleep soon after sex. It was comfortably intimate, and it stirred her deeply. Her eyes grew moist before she looked back at Summer.

The healer finally smiled, and for the first time, it was not cold and distant. "I cannot compete with that, even if I wanted to," she said.

Eames stroked his hair and asked, "His wounds are almost healed, and it hasn't even been a week. Are you putting something in that concoction you give him to make him sleep?"

"I have been, since he came out of his coma. I will not use narcotics, and he was in great pain. So I gave him something to keep him sleeping, an escape from his pain. I have been adding less and less, as his pain has diminished."

That explained why he had woken just before Summer's return, when her sedatives would have been at their weakest. That he was strong enough to fight through even a mild sedation was encouraging.

Summer finished bandaging the nearly healed wounds. "The damage in his chest was extensive. The first exchange of blood was vitally necessary and very risky. Had I not done what I did, he would not have survived. His partial conversion has saved his life. Nothing else would have."

Her tension returned and Eames said, "Will he return to normal?"

"If that is what he wants, yes."

"Would you explain something to me?"

"I will try."

She shifted her position, gently pressing her hand against his shoulder. He rolled onto his back, with his arm tucked under her thigh and wrapped around her knee. She smiled. He wasn't going to let her go far, if he could help it. Gently, she touched the side of his neck. With a soft noise, he turned his head, revealing the now fresh marks over the pulse point on one side of his throat. When she stroked her fingertips over the marks, he groaned deeply, shifting his hips and turning toward her again. He slid his hand along her thigh and she grabbed it, to stop him from exploring further. She looked at Summer, waiting for an explanation.

Ethan laughed, and Eames looked at him. "What is so funny?"

"It is difficult to explain if it's not something you have experienced."

"Give it a shot."

He sat at the foot of the bed, one foot resting on the floor. No matter where he was, Ethan always looked relaxed, comfortable. "Do you remember what I told you about the exchange of blood? Summer uses it for healing, but that does not change the fact that it's intimately tied to pleasure and sex. It is profoundly enjoyable."

Summer laughed. "You have a gift for understatement, Ethan. He feels no pain when I take his blood, I promise you."

Although her suspicions were confirmed, Eames pressed for more details. "So, he likes it?"

Summer's smile did not fade. "Oh, yes."

Eames had mixed feelings about that. "But you haven't..."

She trailed off, suddenly regretting that she had even begun to ask that question. But it was too late, and Summer knew what she was asking. "No. He is stronger now, and perhaps even subconsciously willing, but I have not changed my preferences, even for him. Now if he were denizen..." Her smile became wicked. "I would be all over him. But he is not. I have many lovers. I don't need a mortal."

Goren had settled, snuggled against Eames with his head on her thigh. One arm rested behind her back, along her waist, and his hand had finally relaxed in the grip of hers. He was soundly sleeping again. Summer regarded him with detachment. "He will waken soon. I see no need to keep him in oblivion. He may still hurt, but he can manage the pain that lingers." Summer's expression changed and she glided away from the bed. "He will be...well-primed for you," she added with amusement.

Annoyed, Eames snapped, "I don't need any help 'priming' him, thank you."

Ethan and Summer laughed, and Eames bit her tongue.

Once her things were put away, Summer took her tray and looked at Ethan, her golden eyes nearly glowing in the dim light. She said nothing more before leaving the room, but words were not necessary. Ethan moved toward the door. "I will leave you to your rest," he said, taking pains not to seem rushed.

He vanished through the doorway. Eames released Goren's hand and stretched. "I wonder what they're going to do," she snickered.

Her amusement slipped away as she wriggled down in the bed to stretch out beside her partner. "A life without pain," she whispered as she studied his face, relaxed in sleep. "How can I ask you to say no to that?"


	14. Summer's Offer

A single candle flickered on the dresser near the door, but the rest of the room was in deep shadow. Eames slept cradled in Goren's arms, snuggled against his body. The room was silent except for the breathing of the partners in the bed.

Goren's breathing changed gradually as Eames slept on. A dull, throbbing pain burned in his chest, preventing him from taking a deep breath without making it worse, but it wasn't unbearable. Cautiously, he moved. Again, the pain wasn't any worse.

The first thing that caught his attention, the only thing that mattered to him, was the woman in his arms. Her head rested against his chest and one arm was draped over his body. He could see her face clearly, even in the dim light, and he was pleased that she appeared to be resting easily.

He looked past her, to the room beyond, which was entirely unfamiliar. He had no idea where they were, or how they'd ended up there. According to his memory, the last place they'd been was in Ethan's office, trying to mediate a dispute between Ethan and an irate customer concerning the customer's girlfriend. That was all he remembered.

He raised a hand to scratch his side, surprised to find a bandage over the spot that itched. He moved slowly away from Eames, placing a hand over his chest when his pain flared and finding a second bandage on his chest. Something had happened...something bad.

Eames moved in her sleep, rolling toward him as she tightened her arm over his belly. Many adjectives came to mind when he thought about his spunky partner, but clingy was not one of them. Something had her deeply unsettled.

Slowly and carefully, he eased himself to a sitting position. He leaned back against the headboard and rubbed his chest in an attempt to relieve the pain.

His slow movements and soft groan of pain were enough to waken Eames. "Bobby..." She sat up, fully awake, and touched his cheek. "Bobby, are you all right?"

"No...I don't think so," he answered, his voice hoarse from disuse. He coughed and winced, placing his hand over his chest.

Leaning his head back, he took several slow, careful breaths. As the pain eased, he relaxed and drew her back into his arms. "Where are we?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure exactly where we are. This is Ethan's mansion. I was unconscious when they brought us here."

A look of alarm passed over his face. "Wh-why?"

"They drugged me, so I couldn't call for an ambulance for you."

Alarm faded to confusion. "I...I don't understand."

"One of the people who lives here with Ethan is a healer. She saved your life. If I'd called an ambulance, you would have died."

His confusion did not abate. "What happened?"

As she explained what happened in Ethan's office, he searched his mind for any memories of the events she described. There were none. "So they brought us here," she concluded.

The pain continued to ease as he rubbed his cheek against her head. Slowly, she turned her head, bringing her face toward his and he kissed her.

She was overwhelmed by the impact of his kiss. His arm slid around her, pulling her closer against him. His head began to swim and his pain was lost in a fog of desire. All he wanted was her. He dipped his tongue into her mouth as his hands sought the hem of her nightshirt.

With great reluctance, she broke the kiss. What he wanted and what his body could handle at the moment were two different things. Gently, she grasped his hands and rested her head against his chest, unable to hold back her tears. She hadn't realized just how much she had missed him.

He tipped his head, trying to see her face, but she wouldn't let him. He touched her cheek, frowning at the moisture he found there. "Alex," he murmured, pressing his lips against her forehead. "What's wrong?"

He didn't know what had happened over the past few days, and her tears troubled him. He shifted his position, ignoring the flare of pain in his chest. Slowly, he trailed his lips along her face, tasting the salt of her tears, before resting his cheek against hers. "Baby," he murmured into her ear. "Talk to me."

In lieu of words, she turned her head and caught his mouth in another kiss, which she ended in a tender hug. He rubbed her back and smoothed his hand over her hair. He rubbed his side. "I took one in the chest?" he asked.

She nodded, and he closed his eyes to still his response to her hair, feathering lightly over his skin. She touched the bandage over the entrance wound, close to where her head rested against his chest. "This is where it went in," she said, moving her hand over his skin to the exit wound. "And this is where it came out."

Despite the distractions his body tossed out at him—the pain in his chest, the itch beneath the dressings and the desire that coursed through him—he realized that the bullet's path through his chest would have been erratic, the damage, lethal.

He touched the bandage on his chest, and she kissed his fingers, as if trying to assure herself that he was still there, alive and finally awake. "How...why..." His confusion was clearly evident in his voice. "Why am I alive?"

This was where it all got very tricky. Slowly, Eames sat up, away from him, drawing her legs in and crossing them as she sat, Indian-style, beside him on the large bed. She took his hand in hers and said, "I need you to be your usual, open-minded self, Bobby."

His expression was openly curious as he nodded. When she tried to meet his eyes, though, she found she could not look into them. The change she saw still caused a spear of raw pain to penetrate her heart. He tipped his head, trying to catch her eyes, confused when she would not let him. "What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed.

She waved her hand. "Give me a minute, and I'll explain everything."

Steadying herself, knowing she could not avoid his eyes indefinitely, she began her explanation.

* * *

Goren leaned against the headboard, struggling to process everything Eames had told him. Frowning, he remained silent as he stared off into the middle distance. Finally, he raised his hand and touched his throat. "So she saved me...by taking my blood...?"

Eames nodded. "And giving you hers, yes. It was actually the partial conversion into one of them that saved your life."

He arched an eyebrow and looked at her. "You mean...I'm a vampire?"

She laughed suddenly, fully aware of how ridiculous that sounded. "No," she assured him. "The conversion isn't complete, they tell me. But it's enough to let you heal like they do." She hesitated, carefully considering her next words. "They are offering you an opportunity, Bobby, to become one of them. A life without regret, without pain. All you have to do is say the word."

His head was spinning and he was beginning to feel nauseous. "Become...one of them?" he mused, giving it some thought. Then he cocked his head to the side, shifting his eyes toward her. "But...what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Alex, I have no desire to be anything without you."

"Even if it means you could live without being haunted by your past? They're offering you an eternity of pleasure with no pain."

His expression did not change. "There _is_ no pleasure in my life without you," he said honestly. "My life doesn't need any improvement, as long as I have you."

She leaned forward and hugged him, swallowing a soft sob. She gently kissed the side of his neck, then nuzzled his ear. He closed his eyes, unconsciously tipping his head back. When her lips moved forward, caressing his throat, he gasped at the flood of sensations that assaulted him. Groaning, he sought her mouth, kissing her deeply. This time, she didn't have the will power to stop him.

He used every ounce of his remaining stamina to love her. Then he collapsed beside her. She snuggled against him. "Are you all right?" she whispered.

He nodded and softly grunted, unable to keep his eyes open. She kissed his jaw and gently rubbed his chest as he drifted to sleep.

As she watched him sleep, she reflected that he'd taken what she'd told him a lot better than she would have. But she wasn't really surprised. With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and eventually, she also returned to sleep.

* * *

Eames set her book aside when Ethan and Summer entered the room, and she watched Summer walk directly to the table to prepare her herbal brew. Ethan smiled at her. "Hello, my dear."

"Hello, Ethan," she answered. After a brief hesitation, she said, "He was awake during the night."

Summer looked over her shoulder. "I have not been giving him large doses of sedating herbs. I am glad he is regaining his strength."

"I told him everything that's happened."

Ethan asked, "How did he respond?"

"Like he always does--with curiosity and interest. He is a lot more open-minded than I am. Where I would have thought he was pulling my leg or losing his mind, he accepted what I told him."

"Good for him," Summer replied.

Eames bit back a snippy retort. She still wasn't sure if she liked Summer or not. Ethan drew her attention back to him. "How did he seem to you?"

"He was in a lot of pain, Otherwise, he seemed okay, not any different from his normal self."

_But I know he __**is **__different, _she added in her mind. _At least, he will be until his eyes go back to normal...unless he changes his mind and decides to convert...and become one of you..._

She chased away those thoughts and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. When Goren shifted in his sleep, she reached over and stroked his cheek. He relaxed and she smiled. Ethan watched the interaction, which reinforced Summer's assertion that the two were close.

Without preamble, Summer called to Eames. "Alex?"

It was the first time the healer had addressed her by name, and Eames was surprised. "Yes?"

"I have a proposal for you."

Both wary and interested, Eames rose and approached Summer's work station. "What kind of proposal?"

Summer continued working as she explained, "I have been giving this a great deal of thought. I have no connection to your man beyond the blood I have exchanged with him. Were I to exploit that bond, I could make him my own, but I have no desire to do that. He is deeply attached to you, perhaps moreso than you realize. I can offer you the chance to make your bond with him...more than it is. An eternal bond, if you will."

Unable to mask her suspicion, Eames said, "Conversion?"

Summer laughed. "No, silly mortal. Of course, if you wish it, I am certain Ethan would gladly accommodate you. This is something very different, almost entirely emotional. It is difficult to make such a foreign concept understandable to you with mere words. You trust us with your lover's life. Extend that trust just a little further, and I can offer you the opportunity for a closer connection with him than you could ever possibly imagine. You will become of one heart with him, indivisible."

"How do you propose to do that?"

Summer considered her words carefully. "I have exchanged blood with him. Over time, the bond between us will fade. I have no emotional connection to him. I offer you the opportunity to exchange blood through me. The resulting bond between you will be unlike any you have ever known or could ever hope to forge."

Eames stepped back, repulsed. "What?"

It was unlike Summer to offer something like this and Ethan was surprised. Summer turned and made a noise as she looked at Eames. "Overcome ridiculous prejudice and hear me," Summer urged. "Blood is the fluid of life, infused with everything that makes us who we are. Few mortal cultures recognize the power of blood, but surely you know of the concept of blood brothers? What I offer is much more. When we take blood, it is usually from a lover. Our blood intermingles and then becomes one. When there are no further exchanges, the blood of the other is eventually purged from the system. However, when an emotional bond exists, such an exchange transforms that bond into something... incredible."

Eames studied her. "Who do you have this bond with?"

Summer slowly shook her head. "I have never been fortunate enough to find a man I loved enough to share my heart. You don't know how rare that kind of bond is."

"So...how do you know what happens?"

Summer regarded her with interest. "You are very cynical."

"It comes with the job."

"I do not need to see the sun to know that it shines, or feel the wind on my face to know that it blows. I do not need to feel love to know that it exists. I know what happens among my people, and I know this rare bond can exist between lovers. I have never known it to be broken. I don't know for certain how you feel about him, but I can tell you his feelings for you run very deep. His is a troubled soul, battered and world-weary. You are a light in the darkness of his life. He needs you, probably more than you will ever need him."

With difficulty, Eames hid her reaction to the truth in Summer's words. "And you know this how?"

"I have exchanged blood with him, and that has created a bond between us. What I know about him are things that he cannot hide—the pain of his past, for instance. It is powerful and overwhelms his attempts to hide it. He cannot hide his tormented soul, or his feelings toward you, which are just as strong. I sense that he never considered himself a soul worth saving, until you came along. Do not misinterpret your importance to him. If you abandon him, it will be the final straw in a lifetime of hardship. His life will shatter, irreparably. I know nothing of you, but I would hope for one of two things. If you return his deep affection for you, seriously consider what I offer. If you care nothing for him, then step away now. Let him go, so that he can relieve himself of the burdens of his life and become one of us. Give him a chance to live without pain, to let go of the ghosts that haunt his dreams and plague his waking thoughts. Let him know peace."

Eames considered Summer's words. _Love him or leave him._ "I do care," she admitted. "I care very much and I don't want to imagine my life if he was not part of it. I do not want to lose him."

She surprised herself with her admission, but every word of it was true. She could not let go of the mind-numbing grief that had engulfed her as her partner lay dying in her arms with a bullet in his chest that had been meant for Ethan. She looked toward the bed, studying him as he slept. Did she honestly love him enough to want what Summer described? Ethan and Summer had given them a second chance with one another, and she could not deny her heart. "How many exchanges would it take?"

"The bond forges during the first exchange. That is all that it would take. If you would like more, that is acceptable, but not required. Talk to Jeremy or Stephanie. They are the only ones I know in this area who share such a bond."

Eames looked toward Goren again. _One heart..._ She felt her pulse quicken at the thought of sharing something more than what they already had. Could this bond possibly heal the damage done to them both by life? She almost accepted, unable to stop herself from wanting what Summer described. But to agree to it without his consent would be wrong. "I can't make this kind of decision without him."

Summer accepted her answer. "The opportunity will not exist for long. He will no longer need my intervention after another day or so."

Eames nodded. "I will discuss it with him."

She turned away from Summer to find Ethan waiting for her. "Lunch awaits," he said with a smile.

She returned to the bed and softly kissed Goren, then left the room with Ethan. As they walked toward the kitchen, Eames said, "Tell me what you think of Summer's offer."

Ethan was quiet for a moment. "I honestly don't know what to think. The bond of which she speaks is rare and profound. If Summer believes the foundation for something like that exists between you, I can assure you it is like nothing you will ever know in your life. It is not an offer she makes lightly."

"What made her offer it at all?"

"I do not know. Summer is not one who confides in others. All I can say for certain is that her offer is sincere."

Eames nodded. "I don't doubt that. I'll talk it over with Bobby."

She had already given him a lot to consider. While he seemed to reject Summer's offer to turn him into a denizen, she wondered what he would think of this one.


	15. Their Decision

**A/N: To be on the safe side, I will warn that this chapter is a strong T or possible M. Nothing really explicit, but I'd say the mention of blood would make it so. **

* * *

Summer was gone when Eames returned to the room. She sat on the bed and watched Goren sleep. Her gaze strayed over his chest and she noticed that Summer no longer bandaged his wounds. She ran her fingertips over the entry wound; it was almost completely healed. The damage within his chest would take longer to heal, but it would heal. As her eyes traveled back to his face, she noticed the fresh marks on his neck. She stared at them and thought about Summer's offer. ._..a closer connection...than you could ever possibly imagine..._

Moving closer, she reached out and touched the marks. He groaned and shifted, exposing more of his throat to her. Her heart began to race as she leaned in closer. She brushed her lips over the small wounds, kissing them gently. He turned toward her and his hand slid up her side. The tip of her tongue stroked over each little mark and he gasped, then groaned again. His hands slipped under her shirt and he began to explore. She pressed herself against him and lightly nipped his neck.

She was not prepared for his reaction to her little nip. With a soft growl, he rolled and pinned her to the mattress. His mouth covered hers and he kissed her hard. When she instinctively tensed, he pulled back and opened his eyes. He looked surprised.

She immediately sought out his eyes, forgetting about the changes in him until she saw honey instead of chocolate. Her heart rate did not decrease. He pulled away from her, wincing at the pain that flared in his chest. Her reaction to him, however, disturbed him more. "I frightened you?"

She shook her head adamantly. "No, of course not. But you did surprise me."

"Your heart is racing."

"Not out of fear, I promise you. More from anticipation."

He cocked his head to one side as he sat up and rested his hand on her stomach. His expression became confused. "I...I can sense...your heart rate...your quickened breathing..."

"You've always been perceptive. I guess that is just enhanced because you are part whatever Ethan and Summer are. Summer said you'll return to normal after she stops her treatments."

"The blood exchanges."

"Yes."

She was surprised by how much more alert he was, how much easier it was for him to move without as much pain in his chest. The speed of his recovery, while she should have expected it, surprised her. She placed her hand over his and stroked it with her thumb. "There's something else."

He looked interested. "What's that?"

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, gathering her thoughts. He sat beside her, facing her, waiting patiently. After a few minutes, he slipped his hand from under hers and slid it beneath her shirt. Lightly, he caressed her stomach and tickled her side. Stifling a giggle, she pulled his hand out. He smiled and rested his errant hand on her hip. She could not help looking into his eyes, as much as she didn't want to. But beyond what she didn't want to see, something else lingered—the heat of passion. She felt herself drawn in. "Oh, Bobby," she whispered, leaning toward him.

He met her partway with a searing kiss, forcing her backwards, onto the pillows. He settled his knee between her legs and pinned her hips to the bed with his. When he slipped his hand under her shirt, she groaned into his mouth. He drew back just far enough to separate his mouth from hers. "Problem?" he asked, teasing.

She almost cried. He was back, playful and as alive with passion as he'd been before—maybe even moreso. "Only if you stop," she answered, recapturing his mouth to resume their kiss in spite of his smile. She paused once more to say, "Please...love me."

He drew back for a moment, looking into her eyes. "I do," he answered.

Her eyes filled with bright tears and she threw her arms around his neck. He rolled onto his side and held her for as long as she wanted to be held. Finally, she pulled back and sat up.

She studied his face, his openly curious expression. He waited patiently for her to say something. "There is something else we need to discuss," she said.

He placed a hand on her knee, tracing abstract patterns up onto her thigh. "Okay."

She closed her eyes for a moment before grabbing his hand, which had begun to explore dangerously higher on her leg. "We'll get nothing discussed if you keep doing that," she pointed out.

His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist. "Okay," he repeated.

With a swear, she knocked him onto his back and stretched out on top of him, kissing him, touching him, feeling him. He explored her body, in turn, and neither of them said a word.

* * *

Slowly, the world returned, spinning slowly as it drifted past her and tilted at an angle. Even more slowly, it righted itself and stabilized. Her racing heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal.

She turned her head to look at him, surprised to find him on his side, head propped on his hand, watching her. Fully recovered, his eyes told her he was ready for more. With a laugh, she kissed him.

"You wanted to talk," he reminded her.

Sighing, she sat up and leaned back against the headboard. "You haven't met Summer yet."

"Not yet."

"I want to hate her. She's cold and impersonal, very detached. But I can't. She saved your life, and I just can't hate her. I can't even dislike her."

His eyes began to wander over her naked body as she talked. When his hands followed, she laughed and quickly dressed. "Seriously, Bobby. We do need to talk."

"Talking isn't as much fun."

With a tender smile, she allowed him a lingering kiss. Finding herself yearning for more, she slowly broke the kiss and withdrew from him. "Talk first," she insisted, doubting her own conviction.

If he realized he could easily coax her into another round of sex, he gave no indication. Making a soft noise of resignation she found almost irresistible, he propped his head on his hand again and gave her a nod. "All right, have it your way. Talk." He shuffled a little closer, so he could touch her, but after resting his hand on her leg, he kept it still. "You can't hate Summer," he cued, indicating where she left off and letting her know he had been listening.

"I told you she offered you the chance to become one of them, to leave behind all your pain."

"You did, and I told you I have no desire to go anywhere without you. I haven't changed my mind."

"She has another offer."

He arched his brow. "She made a counter-offer?"

Eames laughed quietly. "No. She made a different offer. This one was made to both of us. Apparently, she has a connection with you, a side effect of saving your life. The two things she could feel most strongly are your pain and your deep attachment to me. Her first offer would take away your pain. This second one will enhance your bond to me...but only if I feel the same way."

His expression was one of interest. "I don't need to get rid of my pain. It keeps me grounded in life. What about this other offer?"

"I don't understand it any better than her first offer. Ethan called it a rare and profound bond. Summer said it was eternal."

"Don't we already have that?"

She didn't miss the hopeful note in his voice. She rested her hand over his. "This is more. This will join us into one heart forever."

His expression didn't change. "Again, isn't that something we already have?"

She made a soft, exasperated sound. "Bobby, listen to me. According to Ethan and Summer, this is much more than love and sex, much more than what we already have. This isn't your ordinary, everyday brand of involvement. This is deeper, stronger, much more profound. This involves an exchange of blood."

"Are you trying to sell me on this?"

"I don't know. The thought of it makes me nervous. But the deeper part of it, the thought of having this incredible, indelible bond with you...I admit, it's very attractive."

"We would have to exchange blood?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"And how would we do that?"

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back. "It would happen through Summer." Closing her eyes, she tried to recall Summer's explanation. "Their people exchange blood regularly. Somehow it's tied to sex. It seems to be something incredible because when Ethan talks about it he gets very excited."

"Does Summer?"

"Nothing seems to excite Summer. Ethan is a lot easier to read. Apparently she is something special among her people. She is one of the only ones who can use the same exchange of blood to heal, without the entanglements of sex. It seems that sex among them is intense but casual. No emotional involvement. But when there _is _emotional involvement, that's where this bond comes in. Both Ethan and Summer say it's very rare."

"Do you think we're emotionally involved?"

She smiled at him. There was definitely some kind of change in him. If they'd had this conversation a few weeks ago, he would have panicked, seeking reassurance from her that she wasn't going to leave him. There was no panic in him now, and the reassurance he sought seemed to have more to do with clarification. She caressed the side of his face with her fingertips, feeling a surge of deep affection for him. She ran her fingers through his hair. "We are very emotionally involved," she answered.

_His feelings for you run very deep. _Recalling Summer's words, she could see the truth of what she'd said in his eyes. Lightly, she ran her thumb below his right eye, wishing it was its normal dark color. He turned his head suddenly, pressing his lips into her palm. He followed the caress of his lips with a stroke of his tongue and she felt the thrill of it hit her spine and slam into her gut. Refocusing, she withdrew her hand. "Bobby, let me show you something."

She pressed her hand against his shoulder and he rolled onto his back. Touching his chin, she tipped his head back to expose the two marks in his neck. "When Summer treats you, she gives you her blood and takes yours. Usually, they do that only during sex so I guess it's tied to pleasure. Summer hinted that you enjoy what she does when she takes your blood. You aren't one of them, yet, but in order to save your life, she had to partially convert you, so that you'll heal like they do." Reaching out, she cautiously touched the two marks, not sure how he was going to react as she gently stroked her fingers over them.

He gasped softly and closed his eyes. _Oh, God..._

When she leaned in and brushed her lips over them, the surge of pleasure that hit him intensified. She continued to tease him using her lips and her tongue. Then, she nipped him and began to gently suck his throat. He lost control. Turning toward her, he made a noise deep in his throat and pinned her to the bed, pressing himself against her and kissing her hard.

She surrendered to him, sensing a desperate need in him that she didn't quite understand. As she responded, though, he became more desperate. She quickly undressed so he wouldn't tear her clothes. Then, something changed. He settled back from his frenzied need and began to explore her skin as he kissed her, driving her into a state of desire and need she had never felt before. She worked her way back to his neck. He was proceeding too slowly; she needed more. When she got to the two marks on his throat and began nipping, licking and sucking, she got what she needed from him.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, he was watching her with concern. Slowly, she eased herself up to lean against the headboard, still recovering. A few more minutes passed in silence before she pulled on her clothes. If it was like this between them now, how much better would it be if what Summer offered was half what she and Ethan professed it to be?

He watched her dress, his brow still furrowed. She ran her fingers across his forehead, trying to smooth away his concern. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, raising his hand to touch his neck.

"You didn't like it?"

He shifted uncomfortably. On the contrary, he'd loved it. "I didn't say that."

"That is a small part of what Summer offers. She says their blood intermingles and becomes one, but when there are no further exchanges, the blood of the other eventually leaves the system. There is no emotional connection between them. It's all purely about the pleasure. Nothing more. But when an emotional bond exists, it's something that will blow you away." She touched his cheek, then trailed her fingers down to his neck. "Summer did this, and she has no bond with you. She did this to heal you. The connection that comes with emotion is apparently so much more." She paused, then asked, "Do you want that kind of connection with another person?"

"No, but you aren't just any other person." He rubbed his fingers over the marks on his throat, startled at the tremors of pleasure it elicited. Dropping his hand to his lap, he looked at her, eyes blazing. "I enjoy making love to you, but it's not about the sex. It's about the connection. I've never had that with anyone else. What just happened...this bond Summer says she can give us..."

She nodded. "She and Ethan both claim that it will make that seem like a back rub."

He frowned, lost in thought. "You trust them?"

"Yes. They didn't have to save you, Bobby. This requires an extension of trust, but not much of one. I've trusted them with your life. I think we can trust them with this."

He turned in to his thoughts, and she let him go. She moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Quietly he asked, "Do you want this?"

"Do you?"

"I asked first."

She laughed and ran her fingers along the waistband of his boxers, smiling when the cadence of his breathing changed. "I want it," she said, surprising herself with the admission.

She looked up at him and he nodded. "So do I," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

It was decided. As she kissed him, she wondered if the bond Summer believed in would truly enhance what they had. He slid his arm behind her and pulled her closer. Maybe it didn't matter, but if it could...Her thoughts vanished as he rolled her onto her back and began to explore.

* * *

When Summer and Ethan returned to the room late in the day, Goren was sleeping again. "Has he been awake?" Summer asked.

"Oh, yes."

The healer looked at Ethan, who grinned and asked, "Is there something you wish to share?"

"No, but I did discuss your offer with him. We decided it's something we both want."

Her answer seemed to excite Ethan, but Summer merely nodded her head. "Do you wish to do that now?"

"Why put it off?"

Summer started toward her table. "Let me prepare. Take off your shirt and lay beside him but do not touch him."

"Why?"

"Because I asked you to."

Eames hesitated for a moment before she slipped off her shirt and stretched out on the bed by Goren, second guessing her sanity for agreeing to allow Summer to do what she proposed, now that it was becoming a reality. When it was a suggestion riding the coattails of an incredible encounter, it seemed a great idea. Now, she wasn't quite so sure.

Summer lit a candle before she began to prepare her herbs. The candle's scent filled the room and Ethan moved away from the bed. Summer sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Eames, sensing her apprehension. "I will not harm you. Take slow, deep breaths. Think of him. Relax."

Relax? Like that was going to happen. When Summer's hand settled in the center of her stomach, Eames tensed, but she did not object. Then Summer began to move her hand in gentle circles, and Eames got uncomfortable. Summer smiled and spoke, her voice surprisingly soft and soothing. "Try to let go of your apprehension. This is about you and him, not me."

Eames glanced at Ethan, who stood off at the side of the room, watching. Her discomfort increased. "Ignore Ethan," Summer purred.

A sharp retort popped into her head, but it popped right out again before she voiced it as Summer continued to caress her. In spite of herself, Eames began to relax. Her mind began to feel lighter and the cop in her wondered vaguely what the candle was made of, but those thoughts, too, quickly floated away. She began to enjoy Summer's caresses and she started to let herself go, something she never did.

As the tension eased in Eames' body, Summer continued to caress her with light but confident strokes. Eames closed her eyes and her mind filled with images and memories of her partner. She felt herself begin to drift.

A curtain of hair fell over Eames' face, but she did not react. She felt a warm rush of anticipation as Summer's breath breezed over her throat. The tip of Summer's tongue moved in circles over her skin just seconds before she felt a sudden sharp pain in the same spot. It was gone almost before it registered in her mind. Just as suddenly, she was hit by the most intense wave of pleasure she had ever felt in her life. With a groan, she surrendered to it until Summer withdrew, taking those sensual waves of delight with her. She trembled, and the only thing she wanted was Goren.

When she started to turn toward him, Summer stopped her. "Not yet," she said. "He's not ready."

She guided her back to her place, continuing to stroke her skin. Although her desire continued to rage, Eames relaxed and was able to wait.

Returning to her work station, Summer added hot water to the herbs in the cup she'd prepared. Making a careful cut in her arm, she watched her blood, now mixed with Eames', drip into the brew.

When she brought it to the bed, she gently lifted Goren's head as she usually did. He drank the brew without protest and she eased him back onto the pillow. Leaning over him, she traced her tongue over the hot pulse point in his throat. He groaned a second before she jabbed her fangs into tender, waiting skin, and the intense waves of pleasure he'd come to expect washed over him.

Just as he prepared to surrender to the feeling, the wonderful pressure eased and was gone. She had never withdrawn before, leaving him aware and needing more. "No," he murmured, shifting restlessly.

Summer smiled, pleased by his reaction. As she reached over him, her hair caressed his chest and he trembled, groaning again. Summer stroked the fang marks on the smooth flesh of Eames' throat with her fingertips. Eames groaned again under the onslaught of a renewed surge of pleasure. "He's ready," Summer whispered, coaxing her to turn toward Goren and guiding her to his throat, where blood welled from the fang marks she'd left. Without the final caresses of her tongue to stop the bleeding, the wounds remained open longer and blood continued to flow. Eames hesitated momentarily at the sight of the blood on his throat, but Summer eased her past that, encouraging her to take over where she had left off. Eames lowered her mouth toward his throat. Once her tongue made contact, there was no going back. Her mind fogged and she surrendered to the urges that made her tremble.

Goren groaned the moment he felt the tip of her tongue return to his skin, just where he needed it to be, stroking...caressing... As her hot mouth closed over him, that wonderful pressure he craved returned. Something was different, but he didn't care to find out what as he tipped his head back, encouraging her to give him more. Wave after wave of pleasure slammed into him. Just as he began to ease down from one wave, another one washed over him.

_Different...yet so...familiar..._

For the first time, he reached out for her, suddenly needing more than she had ever given him. _Eames...oh, God..._

He didn't care why she was there. All that mattered to him was that it was _her_. He no longer held himself back. It was _her_. His hands sought firm breasts, tender nipples...seeking soft, warm skin...driven by a need to caress her, to hear her moan with pleasure...

A voice just barely penetrated the dense fog in his head. _That's enough...you've taken enough..._

"No," he murmured again as the pressure eased once more, this time followed by that stroking tongue.

Another groan...but this time, he didn't drift away into oblivion as he had every time before. This time was very different. He wanted, he needed more. He needed her. Her hands grasped at him, roaming desperately, and he knew she needed more, too.

He turned his head toward her, and it kept going ..._spinning...spinning..._ his body followed. He gave himself over to her completely.

* * *

Summer and Ethan returned to the room, and Summer pulled a light blanket over the sleeping lovers. She smiled, feeling a rare surge of tender affection for the two mortals. Leaving the candle burning, she motioned to Ethan and they left the room. As they walked down the hall, she let him take her hand as he said, "They would make fine additions to our community."

"They would," she agreed. "If they were inclined to join us."

"Which they are not. When will he be able to leave?"

"He will no longer need me after another day or so. Then I will go, and they may leave any time after that."

"When they return to their world...you know what that means."

Summer nodded. "I will wait to hear from you before I return."

Ethan accepted that. "I think it's time for a change of scenery, anyway."

With a smile, she turned toward him and he put his arms around her. She kissed him. "That's what you said last time."

"It's what I say every time, my love. It makes the changes easier to handle."

"Any change is fine, Ethan, as long as you are there."

With a smile, he guided her through the door into his room.


	16. Desire

**A/N: Same warning as last chapter for mentions of blood.**

* * *

Summer opened the door and entered the darkened room. Some of her people preferred the night; others did not mind the day. Ethan usually spent his night hours at his ridiculous club with Jeremy, Stephanie and Gerard. She chose to spend her time refining herself, honing her skills and her awareness of her world. She was much more internally focused than Ethan would ever be. She didn't understand his need to mingle with the mortals, but it made him happy. When he was happy and content, Ethan was great fun, and, beyond her occasional trysts, Summer did not often have fun. That was part of the reason she enjoyed being around Ethan--he completed her. Without effort he could elicit a rare laugh from her because with him, she was free to be herself. He understood her as no one else ever had and he accepted her as she was. Summer held herself to certain standards, keeping herself under rigid control, which was very unusual for a denizen. It was only with Ethan that she let down her guard and allowed her control to slip away.

She walked to her work table and began to pull out her herbs, but she could sense that she was being watched. "You are awake," she said quietly into the deep shadow.

"Yes," Goren answered.

"She sleeps?"

"Yes," he repeated.

Approaching the bed, she met his eyes. She saw warmth there. The decision to save this man had been the right one. "I am Summer. She calls you Bobby?"

"She does, yes."

"And what should I call you? Detective?"

He smiled, and his eyes glowed at her. "I think we may be a little close for that kind of formality. Alex told me you saved my life by exchanging blood with me."

Summer sat on the edge of the bed by his waist. "Yes. Normally, I do not concern myself with mortals at all. But because Ethan asked, I saved your life."

Unsure about exactly how to deal with her, he simply nodded and said, "Thank you."

She inclined her head. "I believe it was the right thing to do, a good thing to do."

"What makes you say that?"

"You risked your life to save his, and you would have lost it had I not intervened. It was tricky."

His curiosity was piqued. "How so?"

She studied his face, and she saw no censure, no judgment or revulsion...only open, honest curiosity. "You were very close to death when they got you here. The first exchange was immediate and it involved more blood than I was comfortable taking, but I had to begin your conversion quickly. Days passed before you were out of danger."

"And now?"

"How do you feel?"

"Better. Still kind of drained, but it's better every time I wake up."

"My people heal very quickly, and so will you. You will continue to improve, much faster than a full mortal. I will not exchange blood with you again."

"I don't need it any more?"

"No, not unless you want to be converted."

He regarded her in silence, but did not respond. She waved her hand and shifted her position, touching his shoulder. She withdrew her hand suddenly, frowning. He tipped his head to one side and leaned forward. "What's wrong?"

She looked into his face. He was at ease, relaxed and intensely curious and she _knew _that. She looked at her hands and then at him. "It's nothing. Lay down so I may examine your wounds."

"Don't you need a light?"

"No. I can see perfectly fine." As he laid back against the pillows, she said, "Have you not noticed your night vision is better?"

"I, uh, I guess I wasn't paying attention."

She smiled. "With only one candle lit on the dresser near the door, you can still make out details in the darkness, can't you? The table, the dresser, her face."

He looked down at Alex, still sleeping in spite of the quiet conversation. "Well...yes, I can."

"Your vision is not as sharp as mine or Ethan's, but it is enhanced by your condition. Were I to complete your conversion, your vision would improve further, among other things."

He couldn't hide his interest, which was driven by his natural curiosity. "Like what?"

"You would be immune to pain, for one."

She brought out the heavy guns right off the bat. No pain... "Physical or emotional?"

"Both. As one of us, you would live in the moment, for the moment. You would never feel regret or guilt. Pleasure, Bobby. It's about pleasure. In our world, it exists in even the mundane."

Beside him, Eames rolled over and looked up at him. He smiled at her. "Good evening."

She stretched and looked around the dark, windowless room. "How do you know it's not the middle of the day?"

He shrugged as his eyes strayed over her body. "I just know."

"Awareness," Summer said. "My people are aware of the cycles of night and day. He has some of that awareness."

Goren looked thoughtful. "Part of two worlds without fully belonging to either."

He was very familiar with the feeling of not belonging, and Eames sat up and rubbed his arm. "You _belong _in my world, Bobby."

"Not really," he replied with a half-grin. "I never have. You have to know that."

Shifting to fully face him, she leaned forward and kissed him. "You belong with me," she amended, grasping both of his hands. "No matter what world you think you belong to."

His grin grew into a warm, genuine smile. "I do belong with you," he answered. "That is the only thing I am certain about."

Summer watched them for a moment. She saw as much love in him as she'd seen in Eames. Seeking to reassure, she said, "Do not worry. Unfortunately, you will soon be fully human again."

"Why is that unfortunate?" Eames asked suspiciously.

"That is simply my opinion," she assured her. "You have nothing to fear from me."

She turned her attention back to Goren, silently examining his wounds as he watched her with a mix of curiosity and interest. Her cool hands felt nice against his warm skin, and he liked the light caress of her fingers. The wounds still itched and her touch was soothing. "How do they feel?" she asked.

"Fine, when you do that."

She smiled again. "They heal, and healing can be uncomfortable." Removing her fingers from his skin, she added, "I will mix up something that will soothe your wounds as they continue to heal."

"Thanks," he said as he watched her cross the room again.

Eames shifted her position and he reached out to her, pulling her into an embrace. She settled against his side and he tipped at the waist, leaning over to give her a kiss. She smoothed her hand along his face and he teased her lips with his tongue. He felt her smile a moment before she parted her lips, which made him laugh quietly. She pulled back to look at him, and she was suddenly overcome by the bright look in his eyes. Always his expression had carried a heavy sadness that his life had made part of him, a darkness that never let him go. There was no trace of either in him right now. At the moment, she saw only love and happiness, and she wondered if he was sacrificing something wonderful to stay with her. Grief and regret clutched at her heart, but she successfully hid them from him, relieved when Summer interrupted.

Approaching the bed, Summer held out a cup to him. "Her blood, and yours, is still mingled with mine, in me. So there may be...residual effects after you drink this." She looked at Eames, then back at him. "I no longer need to take your blood, however, if you wish another...session, I can accommodate before I leave."

"Where are you going?" he asked after he drained the cup, which tasted like a spicy tea to him.

She took the cup from him. "I have business elsewhere, which I delayed to heal you. I leave tomorrow evening." She held up the cup. "This was your last one. You no longer need me."

He watched her gather her things and stop by the other side of the bed. She handed a small bowl to Eames. "For his wounds. I will let you apply it." She continued to the door, where she turned. "I do recommend a final session, not because you need it, but because you enjoyed it so much. Just let me know."

Once she was gone, silence settled over the room, until Eames said, "Now you've met Summer."

He looked at her, fully able to make out every detail of her face, even in the dim light. Summer had been right about his vision. "Uh, yes."

"I heard her talking to you about becoming one of them."

"She was just talking."

"You sounded interested."

He shrugged. "Curious, that's all."

She hesitated for a moment before asking the question that voiced her biggest worry. "Do you have feelings for Summer?"

He wasn't sure where that came from but he sensed she needed reassurance from him, which he found to be an odd role reversal for them. "I have feelings for you," he replied, leaning in to kiss her. "Only you."

She believed him.

* * *

Eames sat beside him on the bed with the bowl Summer had given her cradled in her hand. Dipping her finger into the thick ointment, she reached out and began to rub it into the wound on his chest. He closed his eyes and sighed softly. She smiled. "Does that feel good?"

"Very," he answered.

"Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "No. Not at all. It just itches."

She coaxed him to roll onto his side so she could put some on the exit wound on his side. "What about your chest? Does that still hurt?"

"Yes, but it's not bad, not like it was." He closed his eyes, enjoying what she was doing. "It seems like it's better every time I wake up. It just aches now. It's kind of deep, but not unbearable."

She withdrew her hand and he made a soft noise of protest. "Don't stop," he murmured, pressing his face against her thigh.

With a smile, she resumed her stroking. He sighed softly and began to move his fingers along her inner thigh. Starting at her knee, he drew his fingertips toward her hip, stopping well short of it to drag his fingers back toward her knee. Every time he headed back toward her knee, she shifted, disappointed and hoping the next time he would venture further toward her hip.

When he began to drag his fingernails along her skin instead the pads of his fingertips, she squeaked and he chuckled, a deep laugh of amusement tinged with arousal. "Alex," he said softly.

"What?" she answered, almost purring.

Her fingers began to move beyond the limits of his wound, caressing his side. "Oh..." he whispered, letting his own fingers wander a little higher on her thigh. She shifted again to bring her hip closer to his fingers, but he still wouldn't cooperate. She knew he was teasing her, and he was enjoying it. Smiling, forgetting that he hadn't told her what he'd wanted, she copied what he'd done and dragged her nails over his skin instead of her fingertips.

He groaned and gently straightened her leg. When his fingers found the back of her knee, she squeaked again and almost launched herself over his head. He didn't look surprised; he'd discovered long ago how ticklish she was behind her knees. He had also found out how to manipulate that same spot to drive her out of her mind without making her collapse, laughing and gasping for air. She wasn't sure which he would choose now, and she didn't care. She would welcome either, since both supercharged her desire—and his—and she was already burning for him.

He kissed the side of her knee, and her entire body tensed in anticipation. "Al...?" he murmured against her knee.

"Hm?" she managed. Anything more than that and she knew he would hear the tremor of need in her voice.

"Summer's offer..." he began, not sure just how to tell her he wanted it again, what Summer had to offer. He hadn't been completely alert the last time and he wanted to fully experience the intense pleasure he thought he remembered. If the reality of it was anything close to what he remembered...he felt himself harden at the thought of it. "I...I think..."

He kissed her knee again, stroking it with his tongue, which set her off. She could barely handle the memory of what had happened to them with Summer's intervention, but when he began teasing her knee with his tongue, she couldn't stand it. A tremor shot through her body as she squirmed and she could barely keep her voice steady. "You...You want to do it again?" she asked.

He paused, not sure how she would react if he admitted that he did. Very much. He shifted away from her leg and looked at her. She had no trouble reading what he wanted in the heat she saw in his eyes.

"I'll go find her," she replied, as much desire surging through her aroused body as through his.

She slid off the bed and hurried off to find Summer.

* * *

Summer brushed her lips over Alex's throat, preparing her for what was coming. As soon as she buried her fangs, Eames went tense under the assault of the pleasure that washed over her. Goren watched with intense interest, itching to touch her and anxious for his turn. Summer withdrew almost immediately, drawing a sharp protest from Eames. She touched his face and let him take over for her. Watching Alex's reaction to the change, Summer smiled. She'd started the flow of sensations, but he was responsible for changing the intensity. Eames' hands shook as she reached for him, wanting more.

When Summer tapped his head, he withdrew with deep reluctance. Only the anticipation of what was coming let him stop. Summer leaned over Eames and caressed her throat with her tongue to stop the bleeding. Eames twisted her hips and groaned. When Summer stepped back, Eames moaned a low 'no...don't stop...'

"Patience," Summer whispered as she walked to the other side of the bed and approached Goren, leaning over to prepare him with her tongue. This would be the first time she would do this when he was alert and she felt an unexplained rush.

When she buried her teeth in his neck, he groaned and shifted. Summer was suddenly assaulted by what he was feeling, and it overwhelmed her, shaking her to her core. When his fingers grazed her leg, she withdrew a little too quickly, causing a half-inch gash in his throat. Unconcerned about that, she guided Eames to repeat what he had done to her.

Summer stepped back from the bed, still shaken. This couldn't be. She had lost her empathy a very long time ago. It _had_ to be gone since she had not felt it in such a long time. And yet, here she stood, almost overcome by nearly crippling desire. She continued to shake. _Oh, dear god..._

She almost didn't give Eames the cue to stop, which she needed to deliver twice. Leaning over him again, she grazed her tongue over his throat, lingering because of the more severe injury to make sure the bleeding would stop. He touched her again, and her fangs slipped back out. She stepped away from him quickly.

Summer moved away from the bed as they turned to each other, overwhelmed and desperate. She watched briefly, still feeling the emotions that rolled off him like a tidal wave. She hurried out of the room, stopping outside the door to lean against the wall, eyes closed and breathing hard. In all the time since her conversion in 17th century Virginia, nothing like that had ever happened to her, and she'd been with mortals before. Even more disturbing was the impulse she'd had to convert him. She trembled at the thought of it. In all her years as a denizen, she had _never_ felt that, never come so close to losing her strict control. Compounding her confusion was the disturbing revelation, now that her head, at least, was beginning to clear, that she actually felt a driving desire for a _mortal_. Only one thing had stopped her from fulfilling her need in that room: their bond. Like an invisible wall, it was there. Yes, he had touched her, and that made it so much more difficult to withdraw from him, but he hadn't meant it. With everything that was in him, he wanted only his lover. That was something with which Summer could not interfere, even if she decided to try. However, it did not keep her body from its indiscriminate responses.

Ethan...she had to find Ethan, quickly. She hurried down the hall to his room, but he was not there. _The club,_ she realized. He would be at his damn club. _Stupid man._ She hurried from the mansion, needing to get to his accursed club as fast as she could.


	17. Clarification

Goren woke slowly, which was unusual for him. Since childhood, he had never been a heavy sleeper, unless he was drugged or sleeping off a bender. He had learned young to sleep lightly and wake quickly to any foreign noise.

The first thing he became aware of was Eames, sleeping soundly, nestled comfortably into his side. Her head rested on his shoulder and his hand had settled naturally on her hip. He softly kissed her forehead and smiled.

With a soft groan, she shifted, stretching her arm across his chest. He was tempted to give in to his morning desire and wake her, but as his awareness extended beyond himself, he realized they were not alone.

Seated in a chair near Summer's table, Ethan watched him. Goren looked back at him, able to see him in the dim light cast by the single candle on the dresser. "Is something wrong, Ethan?"

"I have not decided yet. How do you feel?"

Goren considered the question before he answered, "I feel good."

Ethan nodded. "You are certain about your decision to remain mortal?"

"Yes."

"You would not have to leave her, you know. Sometimes we choose to remain among mortals and function quite successfully."

"It wouldn't be the same, and I would always worry about hurting her."

"That is a legitimate concern. Of course, she could also be converted. There would be no need to give up your lives among the mortals."

Goren shook his head. "I would never ask her to do that."

"Fair enough, but you do realize what you are giving up, don't you?"

"I understand my decision."

Ethan considered him silently for a few minutes. "Summer has always sensed the pain you carry within you. She and I both believe our world would be a better one for you. It would take that pain from you, forever. Consider it some more. You deserve more than your mortal life can give you."

Goren looked at Eames, surprised to find her watching him. He easily read her expression of suspicion and anger, and he kissed her forehead, reassuring her. "I stand by my decision, Ethan."

"It is your decision to make, and we will respect that. It's unfortunate. If you had not been bonded to Alex, you would already be one of us."

Eames sat up suddenly, turning toward Ethan, able to see his shape in the dim light. "I thought you didn't convert without consent," she accused.

"He would have been willing. Summer would have made certain of that. But under the circumstances, she could do nothing."

Ethan walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Withdrawing a fresh candle, he struck a match and lit it. Smiling at Eames, he asked, "Better?"

"I want to know what you meant by that," she said, accustomed by now to dealing with him. "If he's not willing, isn't that the end of it?"

Ethan looked at Goren. "But he wasn't unwilling, darling. He chose to say no because of you, and Summer honored that."

Eames looked at Goren, who was glaring at Ethan. "Bobby?" she whispered, withdrawing from him.

Goren sat up and looked at her, but he kept his face guarded. He made a move to say something, but changed his mind and remained quiet. He wasn't sure exactly how to respond..

Before he could figure it out, Ethan waved his hand and approached the bed. "That's neither here nor there. Summer is finished with you. You will continue to heal on your own and by the time the effects of her exchanges with you fade away, you will be well-healed." He looked at Eames. "You have nothing to fear from Summer. She is gone now."

"Gone?" Goren asked, frowning.

"Yes. She had business to attend to elsewhere. She left during the night, after she came to see me." He smiled. "You are a unique man, detective. In all the time I have known Summer, I have never known a man who could rattle her and shake her control."

"What are you talking about?"

"Last night, after she left you, she came to see me. Something happened to her during her final moments with you, something that...changed her."

Goren could feel Eames watching him, and it made him uncomfortable, even though he wasn't aware he'd done anything wrong. "I don't know what you're talking about. What happened?"

Ethan pulled up a chair and sat down. "I don't know for certain." Seeing the concerned look on his face, and the angry look he was receiving from his lover, Ethan added, "It was nothing you consciously did, detective. Don't be concerned about that. It was deeper than that. Not even Summer knows what happened."

Goren looked confused, and Eames softened a little, shifting closer to him as reassurance. He relaxed when her hip touched his, but his confusion remained. "I don't understand."

Ethan relaxed in his chair. "A little background first. During her life, Summer was a true empath. She could sense the emotions of others, particularly those close to her. She was converted under extreme circumstances. The events surrounding her conversion, in a sense, damaged her soul, and she was left wounded, unable to find the warmth of any emotion, in herself or others. She has recovered little of that ability over time. As with all denizens, she has accepted her circumstance and adjusted." He folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward. "I have known Summer for many years. I met her in Boston when I first came to this country, shortly after my own conversion in 1820. We have been companions ever since."

"Companions?" Eames asked before Goren could.

"I believe mortals would use the terms best friends or lovers. I think both would apply. We are not bonded to one another, as you are. Neither of us has ever found that. So we are free to be with anyone we choose, but in the end, we always find our way back to one another. She has gone to the Council, to see Daniel, who converted her in 1630. She always goes to him when she is 'out of sorts', as you would say."

Eames just stared at him, but Goren was intrigued. "What were the circumstances of her conversion?"

Ethan's easy smile returned. "Ever the investigator, aren't you? Summer's father was a good, loving man. He died in 1615, when Summer was six years old. Her mother remarried four years later." He paused for a moment and became serious. Although his tone remained level, there was anger on his face. "Her stepfather was a very cruel man, prone to outbursts of rage that were extremely difficult for her to handle, physically and emotionally. In the spring of 1630, he became enraged at something she did in innocence and he beat her, leaving her to die in a field near their home. She was found, near death, by Daniel. He succeeded in saving her, much the way she saved you. As she recovered in his home, he sensed her pain, and he offered her conversion, which she accepted. She remained with Daniel until he joined the council, about five years before I met her."

Goren waved a hand in the air. "So what does this have to do with me?"

"As I said, Summer lost her ability to sense and feel emotion when her stepfather tried to kill her. It has been dormant within her for almost four hundred years, until last night. Something happened as she prepared you for Alex, something that wakened emotion in her again. Neither of us understand how that happened, so while she is with Daniel, she will consult with the council."

Goren ran his hand over his hair. "But...I-I didn't do anything..."

"Not consciously, no. But something definitely happened to her. Since her conversion, Summer has had no desire for mortal men. I have only known two who caught her attention, but after a single encounter, she lost interest. But you...you are different. Were you not already bonded, I have no doubt she would have taken you to her bed...and her interest in you would have endured, even if you did not consent to conversion, which we are both certain you would have. That is a moot point, though." He looked at Eames, then back at Goren. "She said there was a moment, just one fleeting moment, when she was tempted to keep going, to finish your conversion. It was a moment during which you would have offered no objection. It took a great force of will for her to break contact and turn you over to Alex. Summer is a woman of her word, but powerful emotions broke free for her last night. It took an enormous effort for her to overcome them and leave you."

He smiled, and his eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight. Eames had seen the same thing in Goren's eyes, and she recognized it for what it was—arousal. "No need for concern," he added. "I was able to address all her needs."

"Why should we be concerned about that?" Eames asked, her voice cold and even.

Goren recognized her tone, and he cringed internally. When he touched her hand, she withdrew it from him, and he knew she blamed him for something. What it was, though, he had no idea. Ethan was amused. "You do not like Summer, Alex."

"I never trusted Summer."

"Because of her gender?"

"I don't trust you, either."

Ethan laughed. "Is there anyone you trust, my darling?"

Goren answered for her. "No, there's not."

She snapped her head in his direction and studied him in the candlelight. He didn't shy away from her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. Her own hard feelings softened a little more. He honestly believed what he'd just said, and she had to admit, she wasn't giving him the benefit of any doubt at the moment. She was blaming him for the things Ethan had observed and not taking into account his own actions. He'd done nothing wrong, yet she was still angry, and he didn't see that as fair.

Ethan sensed her raw anger as well as his hurt feelings. He rose from the chair. "Jeremy is at work in the kitchen. I will let you know when breakfast is ready, and you can join us in the dining room. Now, I will leave you to work out your conflict. I simply needed to know if you were aware of what you had done. You were not, and I will let Summer know when she returns."

He crossed the room and left. As soon as he was gone, Goren asked, "Why are you mad at me?"

"You actually considered her offer?"

"Of course I did. Didn't you?"

"No! Why would I?"

He met her eyes. "Why _wouldn't_ I?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but she swallowed her words. She was learning not to lash out at him in anger. He was sensitive to the things she said, and, in spite of her anger, she didn't want to hurt him. Besides, even she had questioned why he would turn down the opportunity Summer had offered him: a chance to exist without the pain of his past weighting him down, to live without regret or guilt...a chance to experience simple pleasure in everything. "You _were_ willing," she whispered. "But you said no. Why?"

He didn't look away. "Because then I wouldn't be able to be with you."

She took the time to consider the ramifications of what he said. "They said you could live where you want, that you wouldn't have to give me up."

"But I wouldn't be able to be fully with you. There would be differences we couldn't get past. I don't want to be different from you. I just want to be with you."

He heart swelled with love for him, chasing away her anger. She shifted her position, facing him, and the sheet slid to her waist, revealing her bare torso. "She wanted to convert you."

He looked from her face to her chest. "But I said no."

"Because of me," she insisted, her soft voice now devoid of anger.

He returned his gaze to her face. "No life, however attractive, is worth living without you. Not for me."

She could swear his eyes were glowing in the candlelight, just as Ethan's had. She wondered how long that particular side effect would last as he recovered from his partial conversion. She would be glad to have him back, fully human, but she enjoyed the glow in his eyes when he was aroused.

More than that, though, she became aware of a warmth deep inside her, as though that glow heated her own desire. She raised her hand and lightly stroked his throat, caressing the faded bite marks that Summer had left.

He closed his eyes and softly groaned. When her mouth followed the path of her fingers, he groaned again. "Problem?" she murmured against his throat.

He caressed her back and replied, "You know what that does to me."

"Remind me," she hummed, stroking the same spot with the tip of her tongue.

He nearly came unglued. Wrestling her to the mattress, he readily complied.

* * *

As Goren pulled on his shirt, Eames stepped up to him, fully dressed. She reached out and gently pulled his shirt closed. He dropped his hands to her waist and watched her button his shirt. Smoothing her hands over his shirt, one at a time, she said, "Thank you, Bobby."

He tipped his head to the side, trying to see her face, but she wouldn't look up. He touched her chin. "What for?" he asked.

She looked into eyes that were familiar and yet not, a physical reminder of what he might be. Whether he was a denizen now or not, though, he had made his decision clearly known, and if Summer had converted him, it would have been a betrayal to him. "For giving up something that could be so good for you because of me."

"Good for me? _You_ are good for me." He brushed his lips over hers. "You are all that matters to me."

She relaxed against him and slipped her arms around his neck as he kissed her. They stepped apart when the door opened and Ethan came back into the room. He smiled at them. "Am I interrupting or are we ready to eat?"

Eames turned toward him and frowned. "You know, Ethan, I am sick to death of the dark. I am so ready to step out of this hole back into the light. The only thing that makes it worth being here in the dark all the time is Jeremy's food."

Ethan laughed. "You may return to your people today, if you wish. A word of caution, however. You will have no trouble, but it will take time for him to return to normal. The light will be hard on his eyes."

"_He_ can hear you," Goren snapped.

"Of course you can. My apologies. Sunglasses will help you to handle the light, but sunlight is going to be painful. Denizens who live in your world often use the migraine excuse when it gets to be unbearable."

"I am not a denizen," he reminded Ethan.

"No, not completely, but you are enough of one for your eyes to be affected, in addition to your enhanced ability to heal. It is temporary."

"How temporary?"

"That is hard to predict. Summer is a powerful denizen, and she had to share a great deal of blood with you in a very short time. That is not something we do under normal circumstances. The effects may linger." Ethan winked at him. "Enjoy them."

Eames' tone was hard as she voiced her suspicions and asked, "And you're certain she didn't convert him anyway?"

Ethan's smile did not fade. "My, you are certainly in the right field, suspicious one. Summer walked a tightrope with him along a very fine line. I would have trusted no other to do what she did." He leaned toward her. "Did he bite your neck when you made love just now, darling?"

Eames pulled back from him, accidentally stepping into Goren, who slipped his arm around her waist. She felt his tension and reached back, resting her hand on his thigh. "What do you mean?" she demanded, caught offguard by his question.

Ethan's smiled widened and his fangs slipped out. He arched his eyebrows and reached out to touch her chin, tipping her head back so he could see her throat. The only marks there were the ones Summer had left the night before. His fangs retracted, but the smile remained. "You will have your lover back, fully human, in due time, my dear. He is not a full denizen."

Eames remained standing against her partner, with his arm holding her close. Ethan looked at them, and his smile slowly faded. To have what they had...two strong individuals, one powerful heart. He shook off his wistful envy and his pleasant smile returned. "Come along," he said brightly. "Breakfast is waiting. After that, we will discuss your return to your lives."

As they walked toward the door, Goren rested his hand against Eames' back. She turned her head to look up at him, and he softly kissed her mouth. She smiled, lightly touching his chin. They followed Ethan from the room.


	18. Under Cover of Darkness

After breakfast, Ethan was called away on club business and the two detectives passed the day on their own until Ethan returned. After a cursory knock, Ethan opened the door and smiled at them. "Dinner will be ready shortly, my friends."

"What did Jeremy make?" Eames asked from where she was seated on the bed, leaning back against her partner.

"He's preparing a pan-seared steak and onions with seasoned pasta and steamed broccoli. His steak is wonderfully tender, if you will remember."

She smiled. "I do. How long until it's ready?"

"You have a good fifteen minutes before he's ready to serve."

Eames tipped her head back to look at Goren. His eyes strayed to her exposed neck, and he lightly stroked his fingers over the healing marks Summer had left over her pulse point. She trembled as he leaned in to kiss her.

Smiling, Ethan backed out of the room and waited in the hall. Goren was not a denizen, but he certainly had tendencies. Since he had chosen not to take that final step over the line, those tendencies would fade over time. He still could not help feeling a surge of regret over the man's choice to remain mortal.

The door opened and they joined him in the hall, holding hands. With another smile, Ethan said, "I am famished. Let's go."

* * *

Ethan finished his dinner and leaned back in his chair. "Another excellent meal, Jeremy. You continue to outdo yourself, my friend."

"Thank you, Ethan," Jeremy answered with a pleased smile. He looked at Goren. "I apologize for not delivering your meals to you in person during your convalescence, detective. I am not normally so impersonal regarding the food I prepare and the people who enjoy it. I do hope the food was satisfactory."

Goren smiled at him. "Very much so, thank you."

"Alex tells me you enjoy spending time in the kitchen as well."

"I don't have a lot of spare time, but I try my hand at cooking from time to time."

Eames nudged him. "Don't be so modest, Bobby. Your cooking is excellent."

"Thank you," he answered. "But I think Jeremy would win, hands down, in a cook off."

She laughed and placed her hand on his. He grasped her fingers and squeezed as she said, "Maybe you just need more practice."

"Maybe."

Ethan laughed. "Jeremy has been practicing for over seventy years. You have some catching up to do."

With a good-natured smile, Goren tipped his head graciously toward Jeremy. "I don't think I have a chance of catching up to you, chef."

Eames leaned toward him. "But don't stop trying."

He turned his head toward her and studied her face. "If you eat it, I'll cook it."

Ethan picked up the coffee pot from the center of the table and refilled his coffee cup. Then he stood up with it, addressing Goren and Eames. "While Stephanie helps Jeremy with the clean up, we should retire to my office. We have business to discuss."

Stephanie smiled at the detectives as she began to clear the table. Shy and pretty, she didn't talk much, but it was clearly evident that she adored Jeremy, and he openly returned her love. Eames wondered if the love she shared with her partner was as obvious.

As they stepped away from the table to follow Ethan, Goren surprised her by taking her hand. When she looked up at him, she stopped wondering. His expression left her with no doubts about his feelings toward her. She wanted to urge caution, to point out that to the world at large, they could be no more than partners, but she didn't. All she did was return his smile--and his love.

Ethan sat in an armchair and opened a drawer in the table beside him, withdrawing a small box. Opening it, he took out a cigarette, then held out the box in offering. "They are quite smooth," he said.

Eames declined, but Goren accepted one. After lighting both cigarettes, Ethan leaned back in the chair, watching the couple seated on the couch across from him. "We need to discuss your return to your world. As I told you several days ago, your people have been looking for you. They've been to the club three times this week, questioning my people and my patrons. They've walked away empty-handed but I doubt they're going to give up so easily. I am waiting for them to turn up with a search warrant. Not that they will find anything, but that would be a tedious inconvenience."

"Apparently," Eames said. "Our trail ends at your club. I wonder why that is, Ethan."

Ethan smiled at her. "I love your sarcasm, my dear."

Goren was more serious. "They suspect foul play, Ethan, so they're going to be looking for blood. When they turn a black light on the floor of your office, it's going to light up like a Christmas tree, even if you've cleaned it up. Then they'll test it and find out that a lot of it is mine. They'll take that ball and run with it. It will become more than a tedious inconvenience."

Ethan was interested. "Do go on."

Goren shook his head. "It's not a joke, Ethan. With the amount of blood they are going to find, and with us missing, they will assume the worst and you will fall under suspicion for murder."

"But you are not dead."

"They don't know that. And another man _is _dead."

"I did not kill him."

"They don't know that, either. All they have is a lot of questions and no answers. Cops don't like not having answers, so we try to fill in the blanks with educated guesses based on the evidence we find."

Ethan's amused look did not fade. "You are very good at that, aren't you?"

"I am, but that's not the point. They are going to make things difficult for you and your business."

"Do not worry about me and mine, detective. You and Alex will return to your lives this evening, under cover of dark, naturally."

"Naturally." Goren put out the cigarette in a nearby ash tray. "Just how do you propose to, uh, return us?"

"Pretty much the same way you came to us in the first place."

Goren arched an eyebrow. "You're going to shoot me?"

Rising from his chair, Ethan laughed. "Of course not."

He walked around to his desk and withdrew a small case. Returning to his seat, he set it down in his lap and opened it, withdrawing a small vial and a pair of syringes, still in their sterile wrappers. He looked at Alex. "You have had experience with this. It was what we gave you the night he was shot. You will waken in familiar surroundings and you may return to your lives."

Both cops became tense and Goren frowned. "What is it?"

"Relax. No harm will come to you; you have my word. This is a sedative, nothing more."

"Why is this necessary?" Goren demanded, uncertain.

"Trust me. You do not know the location of my home, and for your protection, as well as ours, I must keep it that way."

Goren looked at Eames, then quietly said, "We still have a case to solve, Ethan."

"Your case _is_ solved. You know exactly what happened to her."

Goren sighed. "It's not that easy. Warren is supposed to stand accountable for what he did."

"He is being held accountable. That is why he went to the Council."

"Ethan, if you are going to live in our society, you have to live by our laws. Justice has to be satisfied."

"Do you trust me, detective?"

Goren regarded him in silence for a long moment before he answered, "Yes. I do."

"Then trust me when I tell you that Warren will be punished for his actions, according to our ways. Your prisons would serve no purpose for him."

Bobby gave it some thought, then looked at Alex, who was also uncertain. "We have to follow up on what we know."

Ethan nodded. "I understand. I have no reservations about that because nothing will come of it. Things change, my dear detective. Always keep that in mind. Life is never stagnant, unless you choose to make it so. Do what you must."

He drew up a dose of the sedative and looked at them. "Are you ready to say good-bye?"

Eames answered, "Not good-bye, Ethan. You'll see us again."

With a smile, he sat beside her. "Ah, yes...your investigation. Then I shall say: Until we meet again, my darling."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek, which she allowed. Then he injected the medication into her shoulder. By the time he drew up the second dose and turned to Goren, she was out, cradled in her lover's arms.

"Detective," he said, holding up the syringe.

"I, uhm, I-- Thank you for what you did, Ethan."

The club owner nodded. "It was the right thing to do."

"I'm glad you think so."

"I do. I will miss you both, as I am sure Summer will."

"Tell her what I said. I owe her a huge debt."

"The debt is mine to pay, and I will do so gladly." He injected the contents of the syringe into Goren's shoulder. "Good-bye, detective."

Within minutes, Goren was also unconscious. Ethan put away the case and watched them for a moment before he touched an intercom on his desk. "They are ready, Gerald."

"We'll be right there, my lord."

Ethan returned to his armchair and lit another cigarette as he waited for Gerald and the others. In the dark of night, the two detectives would be returned to their world.

* * *

The first thing Eames became aware of when she woke was that Goren was right there with her, holding her in his sleep. They were in a bed, and it was daylight. Looking around the room, she realized that they were in his bedroom, and the clock read 9:13. Placing a soft kiss on his mouth, she slipped from his arms and got out of the bed.

After using the bathroom, she went into the kitchen and set up the coffee pot. In the living room, she opened his laptop and checked the date on the computer. It was Saturday morning; ten days had passed since Goren was shot. They'd been left at the apartment sometime the night before.

As she poured her coffee and thought about what to tell the captain, Goren came up behind her, sliding his arms around her as he kissed her neck. She leaned back into him. "What are we going to tell Deakins?"

He rested his cheek against her head. "That's a good question."

"And you do realize..."

"That I have to behave myself? Of course. We'll be fine."

"How do you feel?"

He tightened his arms around her. "I feel good."

"Take off your shirt and let me see those wounds."

He stepped back and slipped out of his t-shirt. She was surprised when she turned and saw that he was wearing sunglasses. She looked at him without moving. Puzzled, he asked, "What's the matter?"

She motioned toward her own eyes and he raised his hand, touching the glasses. "Oh, that. Ethan was right. The light hurts and the glasses help."

"Bobby..."

He stepped closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. "It's temporary."

Slowly, she nodded, then she turned her attention to his broad chest. With gentle hands, she stroked the almost healed wounds. "How do they feel?"

"They still itch a little, but I barely notice them any more."

She rubbed her hand over his chest. "You were shot in the chest ten days ago. You should still be recuperating and these wounds shouldn't look this good. So what are we going to tell the captain?"

"I should be dead," he said as he watched her hand move over his skin. Her touch was soothing and felt good; it was also arousing. When he moved even closer to her, she moved her hand to his cheek and looked up at him.

Still put off by the glasses, she stepped away. "So what do you suggest?"

He hesitated, then crossed the room to get a coffee cup from the cupboard. "We were abducted?" he offered.

"By aliens?"

With a laugh, he poured his coffee. "If that's what you want to go with."

"What else do you have?"

He shrugged. "Other than that, I have nothing."

She leaned against the counter. "I don't know, Bobby. It seems contrived."

"It _is_ contrived. Of course, if you'd rather tell the captain what _really_ happened..."

She raised her hand. "I'd rather not risk being sent for a psych eval."

"They aren't that bad," he replied.

With a smile, she stepped away from the counter and backed him into the refrigerator. He leaned into her kiss, dropping his coffee. The mug hit the floor and shattered, and neither of them noticed.

* * *

James Deakins stood in front of the grill on his back deck, flipping burgers and turning hot dogs. He was at a loss. Two of his best detectives—his favorite detectives—had been missing for a week and a half, and their attempts to find out what had happened to them were stalled. They'd run into a wall at every turn and he was about out of ideas. Somehow, it seemed to center around the club _Lager des Teufel_, but he wasn't sure just how. The club's owner had been cooperative, and so had the staff, but they had nothing to tell them. He had no grounds for a search warrant, either, because he had no proof that it was the last place Goren and Eames had been. People had seen them, but there were mixed reports about exactly when the detectives had left. The bartender thought they'd left around ten, but he'd been busy and didn't note the exact time. The whole situation raised the hair on the back of his neck. The pieces simply were not adding up.

On top of everything else, a couple of patrons thought they'd heard gunshots, but they couldn't pinpoint where the shots had come from. When asked if the sounds could have been part of the music that was playing that night, they all admitted that it could have been. Again...no probable cause.

Carver was practically begging for scraps. He wanted to issue the search warrant, but he needed more. He needed something a judge could sink his teeth into, something more than 'maybe shots were fired but it could have been part of the music' or 'the detectives went into the club and were seen leaving but we don't know where they went'. If they left, then there was another scene out there where they would have been before they vanished, and it was not the club. There were too many unknowns to make a judge comfortable putting his name on a warrant to search a business owned by a British national. So by throwing in a helping of international relations...no search warrant without ironclad evidence. End of story.

So he sent his detectives back to the club to keep looking. The evidence they needed was there somewhere. It had to be.

* * *

Goren had fallen asleep on the couch. He wasn't quite as well as he wanted her to believe. She sat in the curve of his body and rested her hand on his hip. _My soulmate,_ she thought. _Bonded, forever._

The thought made her smile. He had been trying so hard to connect with her, to draw her into the circle of his affection. She stroked the side of his face, rubbing his temple beneath the earpiece of his glasses, which got a groan from him.

His eyes, his beautiful, dark eyes, no longer dark, but still expressive. _Photosensitive...rapid healing... temporary... _Ethan had continually assured her that Summer had done nothing permanent to him, other than save his life. She'd given them the benefit of the doubt and so she would watch for the changes that would tell her that he was still completely human.

As she stroked his hair, she thought about Deakins. They still didn't know what they were going to tell him, and she wasn't comfortable winging it, but she had to at least let him know they were safe. She reluctantly rose and moved away from the couch to the counter where the phone sat. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the captain's number.


	19. On Your Terms

Eames closed her phone and looked at her sleeping partner. She had managed to hem and haw her way out of giving the captain an explanation, but at least he knew they were safe. She knew she was delaying the inevitable, but she didn't know what to tell him. They had until morning to figure it out.

She returned to the couch and sat lightly by Goren, removing his sunglasses and running her fingers through his dark hair. He stirred at her touch and slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the light. When she reached over and turned off the lamp, he smiled at her. She continued to stroke his hair. "I talked to the captain."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing yet. I still don't know what to say."

He settled his hand on her waist. "We'll figure something out."

"How do you feel?"

He considered her question. "I feel good. Still tired, but good."

She drew slow circles around the entry wound in his chest with her fingertip. He closed his eyes, a small smile curling his lips. Although still an angry red, the wound was completely closed and no longer painful. When she drew her nails lightly over the healing injury, he made a soft noise. Smiling, she leaned over to kiss him.

He buried his fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss. She relaxed against him, enjoying the sensations aroused by his touch. When he finally ended the kiss, she rested her forehead against his as he gently stroked her face with his fingertips. "Do you feel what I feel?" he asked.

"I don't know. What do you feel?"

He shook his head. "Never mind. You would know if you felt it."

"Bobby..."

He kissed her nose. "Honestly. Forget it."

She was quiet for a minute, looking into his amber eyes. All she wanted was to see his eyes return to normal. She continued to stroke his skin with her fingertips, pleased at the soft groan of pleasure that rumbled in his chest. She didn't want to shatter the moment, but she was troubled. There was something she needed to know. "Bobby, do you miss her?"

She could almost feel his mind stumble over her question. "Her?" he asked, confused.

She withdrew, sitting up so she could see his face. Although he had never lied to her, she had seen him lie seamlessly to countless suspects in order to achieve his goals. She was unable to assure herself that he wouldn't do the same to her if he thought it would ease her worries or make her happy. "Yes, her. Summer."

Surprised, he studied her face. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I really didn't spend enough time with her to miss her."

"She spent a lot of time with you."

He slipped his hand beneath her shirt and lightly stroked her side. "I don't remember any of it."

She pulled away from him, but he grabbed her arm and gently kept her from getting up. "We need to talk, baby," he said softly as he sat up.

When she didn't say anything, he leaned forward and looked into her face. "Talk to me," he whispered.

She looked away, tense. "It's just...It's stupid."

"If it concerns you, then it's not stupid. Are you worried...I won't go back to normal?"

"Sometimes I hate the way you can do that," she said.

"Do what?"

"Read me like an open book." She looked down as he closed his hand around hers. Without looking up, she said, "Am I being selfish? I mean, if it wasn't for Ethan and Summer, I wouldn't have you at all. They saved your life, and I honestly am grateful to them, but...I can't help resenting Summer."

"Why?" he asked. "It's not like you to be insecure."

She withdrew her hand from his, but she did not respond. "Alex, have I done something wrong?"

Silence hung heavy between them until she suddenly erupted, hitting his shoulder. "Yes! You got your stupid ass shot! Why couldn't you be more careful! You almost died—you-you would have died if it wasn't for Ethan!"

She trembled under the power of her emotional onslaught, pausing to collect herself so she could continue more calmly. He waited silently, watching her with concern, both for her and for their relationship. Without looking at him or touching him, she continued, "I know what it's like to lose the man I love. When you fell with that bullet in you, when I saw...when I knew...that you were going to die...everything I felt when I lost Joe hit me all at once. I barely handled losing him. I couldn't have handled losing you. But I don't know how much better it would be if she really did convert you. Ethan said she was tempted—so what stopped her? By Ethan's own admission, they live according to their own rules, and their morals aren't the same as ours. Suppose she betrayed you and converted you anyway?"

He knew better than to talk about honor and promises. Instead, he focused more on the changes, or rather lack thereof, in himself. "Aside from my eyes, have you seen any other changes in me? Denizens apparently find more intense pleasure in different activities than we do. I don't have a need to take your blood during sex or at any other time. None at all, in fact. And I don't have any compulsion to bite your neck...at least not any more than I ever have." He leaned forward and looked at her face. "I don't sprout fangs when I love you."

She raised her eyes to meet his. "Is that coming?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Maybe when the moon is full."

Her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile. His expression was soft, especially in the dim light. She asked, "Okay, then, can you explain this?"

She reached out and lightly stroked her fingers over the pulse point in his throat. A warm jolt of pleasure shot through him and he closed his eyes as he drew in a sharp breath. He was disappointed when she withdrew her fingers. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and she saw the same glow of arousal in his eyes that she'd seen in Ethan's. Her eyes filled with tears of grief.

"Can you explain it?" he asked, turning her question around on her.

Slowly, he reached toward her and imitated her light stroking over the same place on her throat, where Summer's marks were still fading. She felt a similar jolt of pleasure, not as strong but definitely there, and it surprised her. She couldn't hide her reaction from him.

He continued to stroke her throat as he explained, "It's a subconscious association. It's residual, and I hope it lasts because I really like it."

He trailed his fingers along her collarbone. He could feel her tremble beneath his touch, and he leaned in to kiss her as he slipped his hand beneath her shirt. She growled softly, a guttural sound laced with need and desire.

Moving suddenly, she knocked him onto his back, tugging at his belt. Together, they managed to discard each other's clothes and come together as one.

* * *

Eames laid against the back of the couch, partially draped over Goren. She rubbed her hand over his chest, grazing her fingers over the healing wounds on his chest. "You really need to stop doing that," she said.

"Doing what?"

"Distracting me like that when we need to have a serious conversation."

"I thought we were done talking."

She huffed in frustration and he smiled, lightly stroking the side of her face. Quietly, he asked, "Do you remember...what it was like?"

She paused. "With Summer?"

"Yes. When she...prepared you...for me."

"I think so, but it was kind of eclipsed by you."

He understood what she meant, and he agreed that nothing compared to what happened between them. She snuggled into his side, sleepy. "But what she did was..." She searched for the right words. "It was amazing foreplay."

He stroked her back, kissing her forehead. "That's a good way to describe it. Alex, please understand. I never wanted to sleep with Summer, and I didn't get the feeling she wanted me, either." Not until that last time... "Whatever she did over the course of saving my life, whatever I felt through her actions... you were the only woman on my mind. You are the only one I wanted."

She snuggled deeper into his embrace. "Bobby, I've been thinking. As much as I hate the thought of you being...one of them, I have to tell you that I realize it was a lot for you to give up for me."

He played with her hair, finding it calming. "How do you figure that?"

"A life of pleasure, without any pain or regret? Don't you think that's something you deserve?"

"Not particularly. I didn't give up anything because I never had it to start with. Besides, they weren't offering life. They were offering existence. I have plenty of pleasure in my life because I have you. That's all I need."

"But..."

He touched her lips with an index finger. "Shh. There are no 'buts'. I consider my life to be complete with you in it." He smiled and caressed her lips with his fingertip. "We're bonded, remember?"

"How could I forget? I'm amazed that you have let me get this close to you."

"I didn't let you. That just kind of happened. Of course, I didn't exactly do anything to stop it. I didn't even try. And I won't...unless you're, well, willing to let me go."

"Not a chance. You're stuck with me, pal."

"Even if I sprout fangs?"

Her smile faded. "Don't joke like that, Bobby."

He tipped his head forward so he could see her face. "That's a big issue for you. Why?"

"I don't know. I can't explain it. I just...I hate the thought of you being one of them."

"And if I was? Would you leave me?"

A look of panic touched her face. "What are you saying?"

He shook his head and slipped out of her arms. He got up, overwhelmed by disappointment and deep sorrow. Unconditional love was something that would always be beyond his experience. She watched him dress, confused by his reaction. "Bobby? What's wrong?"

If she, of all people, couldn't accept him, no matter what, then he knew that no one ever would. "It's nothing."

He sat on the edge of the coffee table and put his shoes on. She got up and walked around to him. "What did I say?"

He looked up at her and she was caught off guard by the look of profound sorrow on his face. He shook his head again. "You didn't have to say a word. I-I understand. You want me, but only on your terms. But suppose I can't meet your terms? Then what?" He waved his hand before she could answer. "Never mind. I don't want to know. I really don't."

_Because I already know the answer._ And if she said the words, it would kill him. "I...I need some air, and some space."

She watched in confusion as he left the apartment.


	20. Back to Work

**A/N: This chapter seems to have taken forever to edit. I have an incredibly busy summer, squeezing in an accelerated EMT course among my rotating work shifts and Katie's doctors' appointments. But I'll be around, writing and updating as I get the chance. Bear with me :-)**

* * *

Eames had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for Goren to come home. She stirred when she heard him come in. "Bobby?"

He closed the door and locked it. "Go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

She rose and crossed the room, stopping in front of him as she placed her palms against his chest. "Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head. "No. It's just...oh, never mind."

"No. I need to know what happened, what upset you."

"You didn't say anything wrong. All you did was confirm something I already knew. It's no big deal."

She slapped her hands against his chest. "Don't tell me it's no big deal! What upset you? _What_ did you already know?"

His eyes became moist as he said, "I just...I was mistaken. I thought you were...different than the rest of the world, but I was wrong. As you're so fond of pointing out, I don't like to be wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"I...I thought..." He shook his head. "I knew better. If my own mother couldn't love me unconditionally, how could I ever believe you—or anyone else—would?"

Her face filled with pain. "What? Why would you think that? Bobby, I _do_ love you."

He looked away, and a tear escaped from his eye. She watched it trail down his cheek as he said, "I know you do, as long as I meet your conditions."

"Conditions? What conditions? I _never_ placed any conditions on my love for you!"

"I beg to differ. If Summer had converted me, if I became one of them, you would...you'd leave me. I see it in your eyes, the fear, the dread that I might possibly be one of them. As long as I go back to being fully human, it's not an issue. That sounds like a condition to me. "

"Bobby..."

He waved his hand. He still refused to look at her, but she could hear the grief in his voice. "Please, don't. I never deluded myself into believing I was worth that kind of love. I know that I'm not. Good night, Eames."

He shoved past her and walked down the hall to his bedroom. She cringed when the door slammed. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt as though her heart was being torn in two. How could he possibly believe he wasn't worth her love? How could he think that she didn't love him, no matter what? Granted, she had made a big deal about the conversion issue, but she'd never once said she would leave him if it happened. She certainly had not meant to infer it. She couldn't let him continue to believe that her love for him wasn't unconditional.

She walked down the hall and pushed open the bedroom door. He'd undressed and was laying on the bed with his sheet gathered at his waist and his arms folded under his head. She approached him slowly. "Bobby?"

He turned his head toward her but he didn't respond. She studied his face in the dim light of the streetlight that filtered through the window. The sorrow had not left his eyes. She motioned toward the bed. "Can I sit down?"

He drew in a long breath. His eyes absently strayed over her body. "You can do whatever you want," he answered, willing, as always, to let her have her way.

She sat on the edge of the bed, beside him, resting her hand on his chest. For a moment, she closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling the beat of his heart beneath her hand.

He placed his hand over hers and watched her. Slowly, she opened her eyes. "I know I've been kind of wiggy about this whole thing, but...but...I do love you, and that's more important to me than anything else." She paused, lightly stroking his skin with her fingertips. "I thought you knew that, so I don't understand-Why would you think that I would feel any differently about you if...if Summer had lied to you?"

"It does make a difference or it wouldn't upset you so much."

She thought about it for a moment. "But it doesn't make a difference in my heart, in how I feel about you. I think it's the thought of you being so...so _different_ from me that upsets me. Bobby, I never meant for you to think I would leave you or stop loving you, ever."

"Everyone does eventually," he said softly.

She leaned closer to him, close enough to smell the scotch on his breath. Pressing her forehead against his, she promised, "Not me." Then she whispered, "Nothing, and I mean nothing, could ever make me not love you. You are going to have to be the one who leaves."

She moved in and pressed her lips against his. He stroked her upper arm, gently easing his fingers into her hair. When he felt her lips relax against his, he pulled her down on top of him and rolled to his side, easing her onto the bed beside him. "I have no intention of leaving you," he answered. "Are you absolutely sure you want to stay?"

"Absolutely. Dammit, I love you. Get that through your head and make whatever adjustments in that wonderful brain of yours that you need to make. I love you and I'm not going anywhere." She placed a kiss on his mouth and whispered, "We're bonded, remember? Soulmates don't abandon each other, ever."

He studied her face for a long moment. He hadn't been certain she'd taken Summer seriously, but obviously she had. "I love you, too," he replied, wanting to feel reassured. He hated that he wasn't.

She yawned and settled her head on his shoulder as he rolled onto his back. He rested his hand on her side, well aware of the changes in her breathing as she drifted to sleep. He wished sleep came as easily to him. He should have had another few drinks while he was out—that would have helped him to sleep—but truth be told, he'd missed her. He felt bad for leaving like he had, even though he'd needed the time away to think and get his emotions squared away, and he didn't want her to worry about him. More than anything else, though, he wanted to be with her, in spite of his hurt feelings. Her assurances made him feel better, but they did not dispel all of his doubts. He wasn't sure anything she said ever could. It would take time, possibly a lot of time, for the main body of his doubts to fade away.

His thoughts drifted toward Summer. In spite of Eames' insecurities, which still troubled him, he felt no desire toward Summer. He had Eames; he didn't want any other woman. But the life Ethan and his people led still interested him. _A life without regret, without pain._ That was a foreign notion to him. He had never known a time in his life when he had not felt pain or regret, and Summer's offer still gnawed at the back of his mind. He continued to consider it, although he couldn't admit that to Eames. If she knew he retained any interest in what Summer had offered him, he doubted she would be so quick to swear she would always love him. He could very well lose her at that point, and it was not a risk he was willing to take. He was afraid she would be unwilling to accept the fact that interest did not equal action. He would never act on his interest if there was any chance at all, however slight, that she would leave him.

Tenderly, he kissed her forehead and tried, without success, to sleep.

* * *

Eames woke to a rumble of thunder. As soon as he sensed she was awake, Goren kissed her good morning and said, "It's been storming for the last two hours or so. It's supposed to be like this all day."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"No. Not really."

"The scotch didn't help?"

"I didn't drink that much."

"You were gone for quite a while."

"Yes, but mostly I was thinking."

She rolled toward him, folding her arms on his chest. "Thinking about what?"

He sighed heavily. "You. I was trying to figure out what else I could possibly do to keep from losing you."

"Oh, Bobby...you aren't in any danger of losing me. How can I reassure you of that?"

"What if...I mean, suppose I accepted Summer's offer? Then what would you do?"

She didn't look away, although she couldn't fully suppress the negative emotion that came with his question. She leaned up and kissed his mouth. "I would deal with it, but not by leaving you. Are you sure that's what you really want?"

"I never said it was. I just need to know if you'd still accept me if it was."

"Yes, of course I would. You would still be the same man and I love you for who you are. But I would be lying if I said I would be happy about the differences that would exist between us, not to mention the fact that eventually you would have to move on without me."

"Unless you...came with me."

She tried to read his expression, but his poker face was too good. "Are you saying that you want to take Summer up on her offer?"

"No, not necessarily."

"Then what? Bobby, I don't get where this conversation is going."

He shook his head slowly. "It's not really going anywhere. I didn't mean anything by it. It was just a question." He rubbed his temples, trying to delay the inevitable headache that was beginning to build in response to the encroaching daylight.

She shifted her position, sitting up so she could draw his head into her lap. She massaged his temples as she said, "But if you asked, it had to have been on your mind."

"I have a lot of things on my mind, Alex," he replied, closing his eyes. "It doesn't necessarily mean anything. I just...I don't want to lose you, so I'm trying not to keep anything hidden from you."

She kissed his forehead. "I appreciate that."

"If you want to move on, I won't stop you, but I am trying not to give you any reasons to go."

"You should try not to worry so much. I'm not fickle." He was beginning to relax, and that encouraged her to continue. "I loved my husband very much," she said softly. "And when he died, I thought I would never love again, but if I did, I promised myself I would never love another cop. I've dated and I've looked for love, but it's avoided me. Then you came along and everything changed. You changed my life, and I will never let you go, if I have a choice in the matter." He forced his eyes open and looked at her sleepily. She touched his lips with her fingertips. "Part of me died when I lost Joe. I never thought I could hurt that much. When you were shot in Ethan's office, I found out I could hurt even more. I thought—no, I _knew—_you were going to die and it killed me. When Ethan and Summer saved your life, I got a chance I never had with Joe, and I am going to grab on with both hands and never let you go."

Burying her hands in his hair, she leaned down and kissed him. He forgot about his headache.

* * *

When they arrived at the squad, Goren went directly to his desk as Eames was distracted by co-workers wanting to make certain she was all right. He sat heavily and rubbed his temples. In spite of the sunglasses and the stormy day, his head was hurting and it was only getting worse under the florescent lights of the squadroom. Deakins came up to him and laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right, Bobby?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I just have a headache."

"I want to see you and Alex in my office."

"Yes, sir. We'll be right there."

He continued to rub both temples, trying to relieve the pounding behind his eyes. When Eames was done talking with their squadmates, she walked to his desk and touched his shoulder. "Bobby?"

He waved his hand, dismissing her concern for the moment. "It's okay. The captain wants to see us."

She sighed and nodded, fighting off an almost irresistible urge to stroke his hair. "Let's go face the music, then."

"As long as we keep the volume down."

She laughed lightly and led the way to Deakins' office.

The captain looked up as they came into the office, watching with concern as Goren sat heavily in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "You look pale, Bobby. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, but, Alex, you do." He did not seem surprised by that. "So what happened?"

They looked at him, and then at each other. Deakins waited. Something had happened to them, and he trusted them to tell him what it was. They continued to look at each other for a few more moments. Finally, his patience beginning to wear thin, the captain repeated, "What happened?"

His tone was gentle, patient, exactly what they needed to hear. Goren nodded reluctantly after a protracted silence. Quietly, Eames began to talk, while the captain listened silently and Goren rubbed his left temple, his arm propped on the arm of the chair.

Once Eames was done talking, she looked at Goren, unable to conceal the concern in her eyes. Then she looked back at the captain, who wasn't sure what to make of their story. Goren watched the captain, recognizing his struggle to understand. Slowly, he removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He pointed to the almost healed bullet wound in his chest. "This is where the bullet went in." He turned to expose the exit wound. "And this is where it came out."

Deakins knew what the wounds meant: they should have buried him. "You have to see a doctor, Bobby."

"And do what? How do I explain these wounds and the fact that I'm alive, not to mention the accelerated healing? Suppose they want to draw blood? There are too many unexplainable variables, Captain. The fact of the matter is that I am alive and almost fully recovered because of Ethan and his people. I can't explain it. It just is."

The captain studied him sceptically. "You don't look well."

"That has nothing to do with my recovery. It's a temporary photosensitivity. Daylight, uh, any bright light gives me a headache, kind of like a migraine. Night is much better for me. It will get better as the side effects of my, uh, cure fade."

The captain nodded slowly, seeing his point. "All right. No doctor, unless this doesn't improve. Now tell me where we are on the Petrakos case."

Once again, the two detectives looked at each other and Deakins waited patiently. Goren nodded his agreement at Eames once again and she said, "One of Ethan's people was dating Amy. During sex, he got carried away and he..."

When she hesitated, uncertain about how to explain what had happened, Goren took over, being direct. "He took too much blood and she died. He panicked and tried to cover it up by causing more damage to her throat, to hide his fang marks."

"So bring him in."

"Uh, that's a problem. They sent him out of town. We have his first name, but nothing else, and we have no idea where they sent him."

Deakins pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is Ethan their leader?"

Eames nodded. "I would say so. Both clubs are in his name, and most of the others defer to him."

"All right, then. Bring _him_ in."

She nodded, trying to hide her reluctance. "Yes, sir. But the only address we have for him is the club."

"Where did you stay for the past ten days?"

"We have no idea. Ethan was very careful to keep the whereabouts of his home hidden."

"Find him."

They left the office and returned to their desks. Goren sat heavily and rubbed his temples, but his head continued to pound. Eames opened her computer, glancing up at her partner with concern. "We'll go to the club tonight, if you're up to it. There's no way Ethan will be surprised when we turn up." She studied him with concern. "Bobby, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine once the, I mean, once we get home and I can be in the dark for a little while."

"You were going to say once the sun goes down."

"I was. It was a bad joke. I'm sorry."

She didn't respond, turning her attention back to the computer, beginning a search for any real estate held by Ethan Wellington-Smythe. She couldn't convince herself that it would be as easy as having his name pop up in such a search, but she didn't know what else to do. Across from her, Goren tried to focus on his own computer, but the added light from the computer screen only contributed to his headache. So he propped his head on his hand and closed his eyes, hoping for a reprieve.

About an hour passed before Deakins approached them. "Are you feeling any better, Bobby?"

Goren looked up at him. "It's just a headache, sir," he assured him again, avoiding a direct answer.

"You're sure it's temporary?"

He nodded. "It's a side effect. It will fade as I...uh, return to normal."

"How long will that take?"

"I don't know. Not too long, I hope."

Deakins nodded slowly. "You say that Ethan and his people are most active at night?"

"Yes."

"And you're all right at night?"

He nodded. "Photosensitivity is worst in daylight."

"How bad will it be when it's sunny outside?"

"I'm not sure I want to think about that right now."

"Go home, then. Work at night for the time being and keep me informed. And feel better."

He squeezed Eames' shoulder. "See that he gets home okay."

They watched him walk off. As Eames shut down her computer, Goren asked, "Did you find anything?"

"Only that Ethan doesn't own any property in New York, except the two clubs."

"That's not a surprise."

As they left the office and headed for the elevators, she looked at him with concern. "You don't look well."

"My head is killing me. I just need to be in the dark for a little while, that's all."

She resisted the urge to touch his arm. "Then let's go back to your place and you can lay down until you feel better. The club isn't going anywhere."

He leaned closer to her and whispered, "Will you lay down with me?"

She smiled without looking in his direction. "Of course," she replied quietly.

He gave her a soft smile and followed her into the elevator.

* * *

Once they got to his apartment, she went into the bedroom ahead of him and pulled the drapes, darkening the room. He took off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the nightstand as he loosened his tie and slipped off his jacket, draping it over the chair back as Eames stepped up to him. She finished untying his tie and slipped it from underneath his collar. He watched her as she unbuttoned his shirt. Normally he would find that arousing, but his pounding head was interfering with input from the rest of his body.

"How do you feel now?" she asked as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and laid it over his jacket.

"Better," he assured her, and it wasn't completely a lie. He no longer felt like vomiting. "The darkness helps."

"Ethan said some of his people function normally in our world. How is that possible? I mean look at you. It wasn't even a full sunny day and you're almost completely disabled. How could someone like Ethan or Jeremy hold a day job?"

"Few of them do, I imagine. But I'm sure they acclimate. They get used to being in the light so it's no longer incapacitating. I doubt it ever becomes comfortable, but with repeated exposure over time, I'm sure they reach a functional level of discomfort."

She stepped out of her shoes and climbed onto the bed, sitting against the headboard as she motioned for him to join her. Kicking off his own shoes, he crawled up beside her and rested his head in her lap, draping his arm across her legs. She began to stroke his hair and massage his temples as she had earlier that morning. Gradually, he relaxed as his headache eased. His breathing became slow and regular, and he slipped into a light sleep.

* * *

He woke shortly after nightfall, his headache gone, and sat down with her to eat. After dinner, they got ready to return to Ethan's club. Stepping in front of him, she straightened his tie and smoothed her hand over it. Then she slipped her hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, withdrawing his sunglasses. The lights at night often made the city nearly as bright as day and, even though artificial light was preferable to natural sunlight, any light hurt his eyes. She hated to see him in pain. Gently setting the glasses in place, she leaned up and kissed him. "Ready?"

Pulling her close, he deepened the kiss. Then he withdrew slowly and nodded. "Ready."

With a smile, she gently tugged on his tie. "Let's go."

She parked around the corner from the club. As they walked away from the car, she caressed his hand with her fingertips. Out of long habit, he started to withdraw his hand, but he caught himself and took her hand with a small smile.

They turned the corner and his smile faded. The neon light outside the club was dark and there was no activity on the street. "This doesn't look good," he said as they approached the club.

He gripped the wooden handle on the club's door and pulled, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't. He opened the door and stepped into the club with Eames right behind him.

The interior of the club was dark. Eames stopped, unable to see anything. Goren settled his sunglasses on top of his head and had no trouble seeing around the open room. "Stay here," he murmured, squeezing her arm as he stepped away from her.

She moved away from the door and waited. When the lights came on, they were dim, as they'd been when they visited the club in the past, but she could see without a problem. He returned with his sunglasses settled back in place. "The bar inventory is gone," he said. "And so is the glassware."

They crossed the club to Ethan's office. He hesitated for a second before opening the door. The office was empty. "They've vacated," he said. "That's why Ethan told us to do what we had to do, why he wasn't concerned about our investigation. He knew there wouldn't be anything for us to find."

She stared at the floor where he had fallen nearly two weeks ago. His blood had been cleaned out of the carpet but she knew that microscopic particles remained. She'd never gone to the site of Joe's shooting, so she was unprepared for the assault of emotion at seeing the scene of Goren's near-fatal assault again. She backed toward the door.

Goren turned toward her. "Eames?"

Turning suddenly, she hurried from the room, her chest tight. He dashed after her. "Alex!"

Halfway across the room, he caught her. She spun toward him when he grabbed her arm and buried herself in his embrace, trembling. He smoothed his hand over her hair. "Alex, baby, what's wrong?"

She shook with the effort to bring herself under control. He nuzzled the side of her head as he rubbed her back. "What is it?" he asked.

After a few more minutes, she got a handle on the emotions that overwhelmed her. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I...I didn't expect that."

He tipped his head to the side and looked into her eyes. "Didn't expect what?"

"What I felt back there...seeing that office, the place where you...almost died..."

Another tremor shook her and she drew in a deep breath. He ran a gentle finger along her jawline and tipped her face up toward his. She closed her eyes as his lips slid over hers.

His control began to slip away as she pressed her body into his and began to move against him. His mind fogged and he eased her back onto a tabletop. She responded by pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. By the time she went to work on his belt, he'd removed half her clothes as well.

They responded with a desperation driven by different needs and desires. She needed affirmation of his physical presence, reassurance that he was alive and well. He just wanted her love. They both got what they wanted, what they needed, and neither of them noticed, or cared, that they were being watched.


	21. In Trouble Again

They returned to his apartment from the club. He kept his sunglasses on as he turned on the living room lights for her. She crossed to the corner and turned the lamp on low, then turned off the brighter lights. "That's all I need to see," she assured him. "Is that too much for you?"

He slipped off the glasses and shook his head. "It's okay."

"Better than it was?"

He smiled but there was a sad quality to it. "It's better," he assured her.

He watched her closely as she paced around the room. She'd been restless since they left the club, and he didn't understand why. "What's the matter?" he asked after she made a third trip to the kitchen.

"I just feel...tense and...embarrassed." She shook a finger at him. "The things you do to me, Goren... I didn't expect to crumble in that office like I did. I'm stronger than that. I never show weakness; I can't. My dad always told me to be brave and strong. 'Never let them see you sweat.' I didn't even cry when I buried Joe. Afterward, well, that was different, and I was alone. But Dad hasn't seen me shed a tear since I was a little girl, and he is proud of me for that. If he'd been in that club today..."

He watched her with concern. "He wasn't. It was just you and me, and I certainly don't think any less of you."

She stared forward, seeing the office once again in her mind as she had in the nightmares that had plagued her since the shooting. "All I could see was your blood on the floor, even though it wasn't there any more. I know it _was _there, and I know...I know how close I came to losing you forever. I-I wasn't sure I could handle that. Now-now I know that there is no way I ever could."

"You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for, Alex. Besides, I'm not going anywhere."

"Not right now, no. But you can't make that promise for the future, for tomorrow or next month or next year."

"No, I can't, but life is full of uncertainty. We just have to take what comes and deal with it the best way we can." He stepped up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Leaning to the side, he looked into her face. "What exactly upset you?"

"Remembering," she whispered, glancing away from him.

This was something new in his experience. He'd never before meant so much to another person that his death or departure would have such a devastating impact on them. "If I died tomorrow," he said, speaking aloud the thoughts that were spinning about in his mind. "It wouldn't matter to anyone except you. Life wouldn't really change for anyone else, and I wouldn't be missed. But you, your feelings run deeper than that. I matter to you. That means a great deal to me, and I hope I never cause you that kind of pain again."

She offered him a small smile and touched his lips with her fingertips. "That makes two of us."

He teased her fingertips with his tongue. "The only part of it that I really don't get is...well, there are a lot of people who love you and a lot more who respect you. Most of them wonder how you can handle being partners with a crackpot like me. But you do handle me. Even more, you love me. That kind of sets you apart from the rest of the world."

"And you wonder how I cope?"

"Kind of."

She could not ignore the glow of desire she saw in his eyes. She knew it was a side effect of what Summer had done to him, the one side effect-aside from his accelerated healing and survivability-that she wished he would not lose. Moving suddenly, she caught him in a searing kiss. Surprised, he hesitated for a moment before responding to the heat of her passion. But as he relaxed against her, she withdrew a couple of inches and smiled. "That's how I cope," she whispered, her voice slightly raspy. "All I have to do is remember how much you love me, and the rest of it just naturally follows. It's the love that makes everything else so easy and worthwhile." She was silent for a moment. "That was the hardest, and easiest, part of my life after losing Joe, the remembering. I will always love him, but I will never forgive him for dying. Never put me in the same situation with you."

He pulled her into a hug and made the only promise he could make to her. "I'll do my best."

She rested her head on his chest and held him close for a long time. She found it much easier to calm down when she was in his arms. With great reluctance, she pulled herself from his embrace and walked over to the couch. She hated to move away from him, but they were not done talking. Sitting, she asked, "All right, then...how do we go about finding Ethan?"

"I'm not so sure we _can_ find him if he doesn't want to be found. He's been under the radar for almost 200 years; he knows how to disappear."

"So Warren gets away with murder?"

He was quiet for a long time. "I don't think Warren is getting away with anything. We just won't be the ones who hand out his punishment."

"How does that sit with you?"

He walked across the room and sat down beside her. "I'm okay with it. Ethan and his people work very hard to remain in the shadows. Warren shined a spotlight on them. They aren't going to tolerate that. His punishment may be different from what we would give him, but I think their punishment will be appropriate and deserved. Not everyone has to go to prison for their crimes. I believe that what happened was accidental, and I trust Ethan's people to deal with it."

She paused before asking, "Why do you trust them?"

"If they didn't have a system of judgment in place, don't you think they would have popped up on our radar sooner than this?"

"What about the 27 cold cases that popped up on your radar?"

"We haven't investigated them. Some of them may be related to Ethan and his people, but I would wager that very few, if any, are. Do you want to pursue it, Alex?"

"Don't you?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out his breath slowly. "Okay, we'll pursue it."

"You don't agree," she accused, trying not to get annoyed.

He paused again, obviously reluctant to continue the conversation. The recent Tagman case still hung between them, and he felt sick to his stomach. Eames had strongly disagreed with him on that one, but he'd stood his ground. Not only had he made a connection with the lonely young man, he'd identified with him. _There but for the Grace of God, go I_. That saying certainly had meaning to him when he thought about John Tagman, and it shook him. He hadn't felt God's grace in his life in many years.

Finally, he drew in a deep breath and sighed heavily. He was good with words, but he didn't quite know how to explain himself. All he could do was try and hope for the best. "Justice comes in many forms. Do I want to solve every case? Of course I do. We have solved this case. The bean counters upstairs may not know it, but we have. We know it and Deakins will know it. Warren has been brought before his own people for justice. He will pay for his actions in a way that is meaningful to him. They don't recognize our court system as justice and putting him through it will serve no purpose. Regardless of his sentence, I don't think he'd ever serve a day in prison. He'd escape and he'd vanish, right down the rabbit hole, as you like to say. He'd become one of those fugitives we never find."

"Like Nicole Wallace?"

His expression and his manner changed. He rose from the couch and walked to the window. "Yeah," he answered. "Only Warren is different. I doubt he'll ever take another life."

When he withdrew from her, she regretted bringing up Nicole's name. The wounds she'd left were still open and raw. "So, what do you think we should do about those cold cases?" she asked, trying to draw him back.

"You're the senior partner. I'll do whatever you decide we should do."

He'd never played that 'senior partner' card with her before. "Don't you dare pull that crap on me," she warned. "I asked for your opinion because I want it, dammit."

He didn't turn from the window, and he didn't reply immediately. The light from the streetlights wasn't that bright, but it was enough to make his head begin to ache again. He remained where he was, squinting against the light as he looked down at the street. A couple walked by with their dog, holding hands, a normal thing for couples to do. _Normal_...nothing in his life had ever been normal, not even his relationship with Eames. He wasn't destined to live a normal life.

"Bobby?"

She brought his attention back to her. After clearing his throat, he said, "If we ever find Ethan, we can ask him about them. He'll be straight with us. I have a strong feeling that the council is fully accustomed to dealing with denizen-human interfaces that have gone wrong. It happens, I'm sure. Is it ever intentional? Maybe, but I think the council deals with those as well. Summer has been a denizen in this country for almost 400 years. The council has been in place here for at least that long. I'm sure its European counterpart has existed much longer. Warren will never be a problem for us again. Whatever his punishment will be, if Ethan was right and he did care for Amy, he'll be his own worst punishment."

"What about that whole live in the moment, no regret, no guilt lifestyle of theirs?"

"Warren was a recent convert. Maybe he hasn't yet adjusted to the live-in-the-moment concept. Besides, there are exceptions to every rule."

"Is that why you don't want to join them? Because you're afraid you'll be the exception and then you'll be stuck living an eternity with your guilt and regrets?"

"No. I already told you—I chose not to join them because I never want that day to come when I have to go on without you. I don't want to face the rest of eternity unless I can face it with you. Whatever else goes through my head, that's the bottom line."

"What else goes through your head?"

He shook his head slowly. "You never want to go there."

"What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing. I'm being honest with you. Any curiosity about their lifestyle I may have is secondary to my desire to be with you." He paused and then asked, "You aren't curious about them?"

"No, Bobby. Curiosity is your forte. I find that it's more trouble than it's worth."

"Please don't condemn me for my interest in the things I don't understand," he said.

She crossed the room and stepped up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist. "No. I will never do that. Your curiosity can be annoying, but I never want you to lose it. It's endearing...sometimes."

"Just sometimes?"

"Count your blessings, Goren."

He turned from the window, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "I do, Eames. Every day."

* * *

Eames wanted him to spend the weekend with her at her sister's house, visiting her nephew, but he declined. He had to go out to Carmel Ridge to visit his mother. She knew how trying a visit could be for him, and he had a feeling he wouldn't be in much of a mood to play with Nathan afterward. He had been right.

The nurses at Carmel Ridge would not let him leave until the bleeding had stopped. The blow to the side of his head made his headache much worse, but he successfully hid that from the concerned nurses. He was becoming used to the dull throb behind his eyes. What he would never get used to was his mother's unpredictable violence.

He dialed Eames' number as he started his car. There was laughter in her voice when she answered. He smiled. "I'm interrupting."

"Not at all. Nate's six months old. We laugh a lot. How was your visit?"

"It was...fine. I just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you."

"I miss you, too."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Alex."

"Sleep well, Bobby."

He closed the phone and dropped it onto the seat beside him. He looked at the building in which his mother lay, sleeping comfortably under sedation, unaware she had harmed her youngest son in more ways than a blow to the head. Pulling away from the facility, he drove back to Brooklyn.

* * *

It was dark when he parked down the block from his apartment, but he did not feel up to trolling around an empty apartment. He walked down the street and around the corner to one of the three bars in walking distance of his apartment.

He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the inner pocket of his jacket as he stepped into the dim interior of the bar. He sat down at the bar and ordered a scotch. He might be lonely that night, but he was going to sleep.

He drank until his headache finally faded, losing track of his thoughts and his consumption. He just wanted the pain to slide away, which it finally did. He stumbled a little as he left the bar and turned toward home. With his senses dulled by the alcohol, he didn't notice the man who stepped out of a nearby alley until it was too late. The man grabbed him and shoved him against a wall. "Your wallet! Now!" he growled.

Goren glared at him as his mind caught up with what was happening. _Geez, Eames is going to kill me._ His second thought was to pull out his badge which was very much the wrong thing to do. With a swear, the mugger pulled out a knife, thrust and withdrew. He ran off as Goren's knees gave way. Pressing his hand against his side, he felt blood gush through his fingers. A thought popped into his head, unbidden and from somewhere outside his own consciousness. He nodded agreement and struggled to his feet. _Home_._ I need to get home. _

He stumbled up the street toward his apartment.

* * *

The elevator doors opened, and Goren staggered into the hallway that led to his apartment, blood still oozing through his fingers. Darkness was encroaching at the edges of his vision. Hands grabbed him and guided him down the hall. Someone else's hand felt around in his pocket and he heard his keys jingle. Then he was guided forward again. The room spun and he felt himself falling, but he didn't have the energy to move and stop his fall. The couch broke his fall and someone at his side supported him in a sitting position; the darkness crept closer. "Drink," a voice encouraged him as a cup was pressed to his mouth.

He was barely responsive. "Drink!" the voice demanded.

As he slowly sipped the contents of the cup at his lips, other hands removed his shirt. The cup was taken away and he felt the hands ease him down onto the couch. Finally, the darkness came.


	22. Clarifications

**A/N: Just a quick note for anyone who hasn't yet heard the news-Vincent D'Onofrio has signed on to do an eight episode tenth season of LOCI. The plan is for the show to get the send-off it properly deserves. Hopefully the writers will come through with good scripts (unlike season 8, in particular). *fingers crossed***

**This chapter in particular has given me a headache. I lost track of how many times I re-wrote it. I think I finally got it right :-)  
**

* * *

It was daylight when Goren woke, and he was in his bed. His side ached, his head throbbed, and he just felt...off, though he didn't know why. He was shirtless, and he had a bandage on his right side just below his ribs. Gentle poking at the bandage caused pain. His brow furrowed into a scowl. What had happened?

Slowly, he sat up, expecting a lot more pain than he felt. He swung his legs off the bed and dipped his chin to his chest as the room spun and dipped, but it passed after a few moments. He looked at the bandage on his side and touched an irregular splotch of red on the white gauze. Still damp, the blood was fresh. He didn't remember a hospital visit. He was confused, and he wondered why he didn't feel worse.

He looked toward the door when it opened. Eames came into the room, hesitating briefly when she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed. She crossed the room and sat lightly beside him, stroking the back of his head and neck. "How do you feel?"

He shrugged, turning his head to look at her. "A little light-headed, I guess. Wh-What happened?"

She studied him silently for a moment. His hair and his skin were damp with sweat and he looked pale. She noticed the two fresh marks on his neck, already beginning to heal, and her gut tightened as she thought of Summer. In the next day or so, the wounds would probably be gone, but she could not help feeling that somehow, those marks represented some kind of claim Summer had on him.

He noticed her tension and touched her knee. "Alex?"

He was squinting against the light and the pain in his head caused by it, trying to focus on her. She raised her eyes from his throat to his face, and she felt badly for not noticing his discomfort sooner. His headache she could do something about. She rose and went to the window, drawing the curtains to block out the ambient light. "Better?"

After a moment, the incessant throbbing in his head abated and he could see her clearly, which he appreciated more. "Thank you."

She returned to him, lightly touching his cheek. "I just can't leave you alone, can I?"

He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. "I wish you wouldn't," he murmured.

She smiled warmly, caressing his cheek with her thumb. "If only I could be with you all the time," she replied. "But don't you think we'd get tired of one another?"

"Maybe you have a point," he admitted reluctantly, opening his eyes to look at her. "It would be difficult to have to deal with me all the time."

Nothing about the relationship she shared with him was what she would ever have considered normal, but that did not bother her. He was exciting and interesting, and everything about him drew her in deeper, closer to the heart he protected from the rest of the world, the heart he was finally opening to her. His soul was damaged, but there was a chance, however small, that she was exactly the salve he needed to begin healing. "Has it ever occurred to you that just maybe, there could be a person on this planet who can handle that kind of involvement with you?"

"No."

His answer came too quickly for her liking. Obviously, it _was _something he had considered at some point and dismissed. If he was unwilling to reconsider it, was she actually just spinning her wheels with him? Now it was her turn to consider and dismiss an idea. If anyone could handle the kind of intense level of involvement he seemed to need, she could, but she would never convince him of that with her words. She would only convince him through her actions, and that was going to take time.

She leaned closer to him and whispered, "Maybe you should rethink your assessment."

He turned his head to look at her, his expression puzzled. She moved her hand, sliding her fingertips over his cheek and along his jaw to his ear. After circling his ear, they slid beneath the angle of his jawline and brushed over the marks on his throat.

He closed his eyes again and trembled. When she shifted her position, he grabbed her arm before she could step away from him. He guided her closer, between his knees, and placed his hands on her waist. Leaning toward her, he nuzzled her breasts. She braced her hands against his shoulders. "Bobby..." she began.

He slipped his hands beneath her shirt as he moved his mouth to her throat, then her jawline. She opened her mouth, intending with reluctance to put him off until his wound could be treated. He silenced her with a deep kiss. His fingers slid along her sides and around to her back, slowly moving up and down her spine. Trembling under his touch, she relaxed against him. He pulled her with him down onto the bed, and she surrendered to him.

He focused on the connection between them, physical and emotional, taking no steps to protect his injured side while he loved her. As he released into her, he shuddered and buried his face against her neck, kissing, then sucking her soft skin, which brought her to her own intense climax. Burying her hands in his hair, she slammed her hips into his and bit his ear, which prolonged and intensified his release.

With a soft groan, he rolled off her onto the bed beside her. She nestled against him and caressed his damp skin as he ran his hand over the curve of her bare hip. He felt light-headed, but the vertigo that came with it wasn't unpleasant. He scratched an itch on his side below the bandage over his wound. His fingers came away bloody. As he stared at the blood on his fingers, she lifted her head and looked at the bandage. The blood that had once covered an area the size of a half-dollar now saturated the gauze. Struggling to hide her alarm, she reached out to touch his side. "I'd better get Summer to look at this right away," she insisted.

"Summer?"

She nodded. "She and Ethan are here."

"Why?"

"I was hoping you could answer that."

He shook his head slowly and looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern, his arm resting across her waist. "What happened to me?"

She laid her hand on his arm and lightly stroked it. "I'm not sure. The last I heard from you was when you were leaving Carmel Ridge on Saturday. I got home from visiting my nephew Sunday afternoon and gave you a call, but you didn't answer, so I came over. I found Ethan and Summer here with you. You'd been knifed."

He frowned. "But how did they know...?"

She wanted the same answers, but her concern trumped her curiosity. She touched the blood-soaked bandage. "You're bleeding. I'll get Summer."

He tightened his grip around her. "No. I'll go with you."

"Are you sure?"

His bedroom was his sanctuary, and even if Summer had already been in there, he felt a need to protect it from further intrusion. It was the one place in the world that was entirely and only his, an inner sanctum into which he allowed only Eames. "Positive. I need to face them on my feet. Could you, uh, get me a pair of pants?"

She went to his dresser and withdrew a pair of sweatpants. Declining her help, he pulled on the pants and stood up, faltering. She grabbed his arm to steady him. He took a few slow, deep breaths, then gently waved her off once the room steadied itself. "I'm okay," he assured her, pressing his hand over the bloody bandage on his side.

She stepped away, but remained close to him as they went into the living room, where they found Ethan and Summer seated on the couch.

Ethan stood. "Hello, detective."

Bobby nodded at him. "Hello, Ethan." His expression softened when he looked at Summer. "Hi, Summer."

Summer's gaze immediately went to Goren's side and she frowned at the blood she saw on his fingers. She got to her feet. "Robert, you are bleeding again. Sit down and let me treat that wound."

He hesitated before he walked to the couch and sat heavily. Summer began to remove the dressing from his injury while he watched. Quietly, he asked, "Do you know what happened to me?"

She glanced at him. "You don't know?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't."

Ethan said, "We weren't there. We don't know how you came to be injured."

Summer added, "All I can tell you about your injury is that it appears to have been made by a knife. I can offer no details about how or where it happened."

Goren frowned in confusion, wincing as she pulled off the last of the bandage. "If you weren't there when I was injured, then why are you _here_?"

"That is rather complicated to explain," Ethan said.

"Give it a shot," he insisted, getting annoyed.

Before Ethan could continue, Summer changed her position to apply pressure over his wound. She motioned for Goren to lay down. "I must stop the bleeding. Ethan, I need hot water and my herbs."

Ethan gently took Eames by the arm and drew her along with him. "Come with me, Alex," he insisted. "Let Summer do what she must."

"I think you can boil water," she snapped, resisting his attempt to guide her from the room.

"Please," he said quietly into her ear as he stepped around to block her line of vision and push her toward the kitchen.

She stepped to the side, looking at her partner's face. His eyes were closed, but there was a tension around them as well as around his mouth. She recognized pain in the set of his face and she wanted to stay with him, but Ethan's persistence won out and she finally went into the kitchen with him.

"He will be all right," Ethan promised.

Visibly upset, Eames paced near the sink as Ethan set water on the stove to boil. She felt angry and frightened, and she hated feeling that way. The situation was beyond her control, and she hated that, too. "Why did you drag me in here, Ethan?"

"Let Summer heal him. Then you can go back to him."

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing. You know that Summer's methods are unorthodox compared to what you are used to from your doctors. His wound this time is not lethal. Your doctors could have easily repaired it surgically, presuming he got to them before losing too much blood. But Summer's healing will be more complete. Trust me."

"Will she exchange more blood?"

"Only if she needs to."

Eames watched him, seeking a way to handle her anxiety. Her partner always sought to ease his anxiety through knowledge and understanding, so she thought she would give that a try. "Would you explain something to me, Ethan?"

"What's that, darling?"

"What is it like to be converted?"

He leaned against the counter beside the sink and studied her for a few minutes. Then, he folded his arms across his chest and let out a slow breath. "Conversion is not a simple matter. Under normal circumstances, small exchanges over weeks will ease a mortal into it. The changes are subtle and the mortal's body adjusts easily. It was that way with me. I remember it as being intensely pleasant and I have never regretted my decision to convert. I can no longer remember being mortal. If you are worried about him, all I can tell you is to trust Summer. She knows what she is doing. I have converted few mortals, but during the process, I was fully aware of their condition. Summer alone knows how close he is and how far she can take him. She knows where he needs to be so that he will heal quickly, and that is as far as she will go." He studied her face. "Trust does not come easily to you. What happened in your life to make it so elusive?"

She refused to let him turn the conversation around to her. "You never answered his question. Why were you here when he got home?"

"It's complicated..."

"So you said. Keep going."

Ethan was quiet for a long moment. "I told you that a connection exists between them because of the blood they exchanged to save his life."

She nodded. "You said it would fade."

He smiled that patient smile of his and said, "Over time, it will, but hardly enough time has passed."

"How much time is enough time?"

"As with anything, that is impossible to say. Just trust that it will."

"Like his eyes will return to normal?"

"Precisely." He opened the refrigerator and examined its meager contents. He pulled out a package of ground beef and a carton of eggs. "Why don't you give me a hand with lunch, my dear?"

"Lunch? Are you serious?"

"Quite. I'm starving."

He pulled out a mixing bowl, along with a cast iron skillet, then chose an onion and a clove of garlic from among several in a bowl on the counter. He looked through a couple of drawers and found a few potatoes and a potato peeler. After peeling the potatoes and slicing them with a knife he withdrew from the block beside the microwave, he chose another skillet and added oil to it, allowing it to heat before he added the potatoes. Then he withdrew another knife and smiled at Eames. "Jeremy was patient enough to teach me to make an outstanding burger. You will love it."

She watched him as he chopped half an onion and minced the garlic, dumping the pieces into the mixing bowl with the meat and two eggs. After adding a few spices and some salt and pepper, he turned on the stove to heat the skillet and mixed everything in the bowl together. He looked into the pot of water, which had not yet begun to boil, then he formed four patties of the meat. He set them in the preheated skillet. "How do you like your burgers?"

"Cooked," she snapped.

He laughed. "You are delightful, even when you are annoyed."

Before she could reply, Summer came into the room. Ethan glanced into the now-boiling pot of water and said, "Your water boils, love."

She nodded and retrieved a mug from the cabinet beside the sink. "He should rest for a couple of days, to give that wound a chance to completely heal."

"How is he?" Eames demanded.

Summer motioned toward the living room. "Go to him. He is fine. I need to give him something to drink, but otherwise I am done with him."

Eames moved past her and went into the living room. Goren was laying on the couch, a fresh bandage on his side. His head was turned to the side, and she was relieved to see no fresh wounds on his throat. She sat at his side and rubbed her palm over his chest. Turning his head toward her, he opened his eyes and gave her a small smile. "Hey, baby," he murmured.

She leaned down and softly kissed him. "How do you feel?" she asked, withdrawing a few inches from his mouth.

"Better. How are you?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I'm not the one with a knife wound in my side."

He leaned up to close the distance between them, giving her another kiss. She pulled back as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Gently, she stroked his arm and said, "Summer says you need to rest. She expects that wound to heal completely in a couple of days."

"It's not as severe as the last one," he reasoned.

She rested her fingers on his shoulder and drew her thumb across the marks on his neck. He gasped softly and closed his eyes, arching his back a little toward her. Softly, she said, "These marks will be gone in another day or so." She stroked his cheek, just below his eye. "But your eyes...they won't return to normal right away...and no one knows how long it will be before they do."

He opened his eyes, which glowed with desire, striking at the core of her. He struggled to settle himself. "That b-bothers you."

She continued to caress his face beneath his eye, nodding. "Yes. It bothers me, because every time I look into your eyes...they aren't your eyes."

Amused, he cocked his head to the side. "Whose eyes are they, then?"

Finally, she smiled, relaxing as she continued to gradually adjust to the reality of his situation. "You know what I mean," she said.

He shifted his position, pushing himself higher on the cushion behind his head and shoulders, though he kept his arm around her. He yawned and watched her from under heavy lids. "Are you cooking?" he asked, looking for less sensitive subject matter.

"I'm not. Ethan's making hamburgers."

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Smells great. I...I'm hungry."

"He should be done soon."

When he opened his eyes, she met them, and he held her gaze, caressing her side with his fingers. Summer came into the room, carrying two plates and a coffee mug. "Allow me to interrupt," she said as she set the plates on the coffee table.

Each plate contained a perfect hamburger on toasted bread with a helping of panfried potatoes. Eames lifted her plate from the table. "Thank you," she said, taking a bite of the burger.

Goren smiled as he slowly sat up, pausing to kiss the back of her neck. "I thought food was the way to a man's heart."

"Not when we're talking about Jeremy's food," she answered, forgetting her annoyance with everyone in the room.

As Ethan brought the other two plates into the room, Summer handed the coffee mug to Goren. "Drink this."

He looked into the mug, smelled its contents. Then he looked at Summer, who sat in the recliner as Ethan sat beside Eames. She nodded at him. "Drink," she encouraged.

He tasted the herbal concoction. It wasn't bad. He took another sip, and it tasted better. He finished it quickly, and it left him wanting more. He looked at Summer again, curious, but she did not look at him.

Ethan watched Eames enjoy her burger and said, "I take it you approve of your lunch?"

"That would be an understatement," she replied.

Ethan took big bite of his burger. "I heartily concur."

They ate in silence for awhile. Ethan's mood changed subtly, but only Summer noticed until he spoke. "_Lager des Teufels_," he said, his voice unusually flat.

Goren looked at him, arching an eyebrow. "What about it?"

Ethan's yellow eyes were burning with curiosity. "You were there, Friday night."

Eames scowled. "How do you know that?"

"I was there as well," he said.

She glared at him, by turns annoyed and embarrassed. "You...were there...? Why?"

She never failed to amuse him and he smiled. "Darling, I still own the club, even if I chose not to utilize it as such. I need justify my comings and goings to no one. I would, however, be within my rights to ask why you were there."

Eames turned to look at Goren, who did not seem in the least disturbed at the prospect that they had been watched in the club.

"It's still a crime scene," Goren said in a matter-of-fact tone. "We were there to bring you in for questioning in the death of Amy Petrakos."

"Me?" Ethan answered, surprised. He gave that some thought. "Hm...that is an interesting turn of events. I assure you, I had no involvement in what happened to that poor girl until well after she was dead. Even then, my involvement was solely with Warren."

"We need that on record so we can deal with the case to our captain's satisfaction," Goren explained. "The DA doesn't have enough evidence for a case against you. And since Warren is out of pocket, the case will be placed on the 'solved but not prosecuted' shelf."

Ethan exhaled softly. "I have little interest in the intricacies of your justice system, nor does it matter to me what transpires regarding Warren's guilt or innocence in its eyes, but my unwavering affection for you compels me to help you in whatever minor way I am able. If you wish, I will consent to your questioning."

Not one to wait and let a good opportunity pass by without taking advantage of it, Eames asked, "Who sent Warren away?"

Ethan frowned. "No one _sent_ him anywhere, dear. He was summoned by the Council. He had no choice but to go."

Goren and Eames looked at one another. "No choice?" Goren asked reflecting Ethan's frown back at him.

Ethan's easy smile returned, smoothing the features of his young face. "We follow a different system of law and government than you do, detective. The Council's authority is absolute, its justice swift but fair. It has worked for us throughout our existence."

"No one questions the Council's authority?"

Ethan ate a forkful of potatoes, his pleasant expression reflecting patience. "No. The Council is never challenged."

Eames took a bite of hamburger, chewed and swallowed, then asked, "So when someone violates the law...?"

"Your law or ours?" he replied, amused.

"Does it matter?"

"As I have told you, we have little use for your legal system. By and large, we follow the laws of the cultures within whose confines we must function, but our system of justice differs from yours. We have little need for a punitive system. When conversion is completed, psychological changes come hand-in-hand with the physical and physiological ones. Our lives are much less complicated because we live by a simple moral code. Your system follows the same basic code, but it has been bastardized. Among our people, sex is never a crime. Rape does not exist. We do not abuse one another."

Goren and Eames looked at each other again, then Eames said, "So when something goes wrong between your people and ours, like what happened with Warren, we're supposed to simply let it go?"

"Not at all. You run your investigation and follow up on your leads. Eventually, all you'll have is another cold case, one more unsolved mystery to add to your archives." He raised a hand before she could protest. "Trust me when I say it does not happen often. My people are generally cautious when we interact with yours. Rarely do interactions between our respective, ah, cultures go awry, but sadly, it happens from time to time."

"How rarely?" Eames demanded.

Ethan held up his hands. "In this country, I need no more than my hands to count the number of times it has happened since my own conversion. In this region, it has happened twice, including poor Warren's misstep."

"'Poor Warren's misstep'?" Eames parroted back at him, annoyed. "Seriously? What about poor Amy? She's the one who's dead, Ethan!"

"I have already expressed my regret. What more would you have me do? Would anything I say or do bring her back?"

"No, of course not. But you could give us Warren to bring before our courts to stand judgment."

Ethan looked amused. "Your people are delightful hypocrites. Doesn't your most cherished volume of laws and guidance state, quite clearly: 'Do not judge, lest you yourself be judged'."

Bobby understood Ethan's amusement. "That's true, but without enforcement, those laws mean nothing. There has to be order or there will be anarchy."

"Well said," Ethan smiled. "But I'm afraid I cannot help you. Warren is well out of pocket; I have no access to him. He will do his penance and then he will relocate, once restitution has been made to the satisfaction of the Council as well as in his own heart and mind."

"With all due respect, Ethan," Goren continued. "It's fine for Warren to be held accountable according to your standards, but he has not been held accountable for the woman he killed within the culture she lived, nor has restitution been made to those who loved her."

"He did not kill her, my dear detective. He inadvertently caused her death. The difference lies with intent, which Warren did not have. Murder is malicious, and Warren is not."

"We call that is manslaughter, and it still carries a prison term with it," Goren replied.

"We can argue this for eternity and never get anywhere. We are not going to agree, and Warren will not be brought before your judges."

Goren set his empty plate on the coffee table and leaned back. He was still feeling...off, fatigue and vertigo combining to magnify that feeling. He slid his arm along the back of the couch and absently stroked the back of Eames' neck. He forced his mind to focus on the conversation with Ethan. "It's not up to us to make those decisions. Personally, I do not have any issues with your handling of the situation. But I don't make the rules; I just enforce them. We need to get your statement on record, and then we can file the case and move on."

Ethan inclined his head. "I understand." He looked at Eames. "Does he speak for you as well, dear?"

Goren looked at her and she met his eyes. After a brief internal debate, she answered, "Yes."

She saw something in her partner's face that expressed more than obvious approval and gratitude, but she couldn't quite place it. She touched his thigh and gave it a gentle stroke.

Ethan looked at Summer, then returned his attention to the two detectives. "I will give you the statement you need. Just let me know when to join you at your station."

Goren nodded. He looked at Summer, wondering why the odd feeling inside him intensified when she looked back at him. Then he shifted his gaze to Ethan. Finally, he said, "Ethan, can I ask you something and get a straight answer from you, without a song and dance routine?"

Ethan motioned for him to continue with a brief nod. Goren's hand remained beneath his partner's hair, stroking her neck as he said, "I want to know why you and Summer were here when I got home Saturday night."

Ethan looked at Summer, deferring to her with a nod and a smile. She explained, "Saturday afternoon I got a feeling that something happened to you, but it wasn't until later that I felt you were in serious trouble. I had no idea what was wrong or where you were, so all I could do was..._will_ you to go home. Ethan and I came here and waited. When you got off the elevator, we helped you inside and I treated your injury."

"You _willed_ me to go home?"

"The connection goes both ways. Since I sensed you were in danger, I hoped you could sense what I needed you to do and that you would do it. It wasn't until you got here that I realized you'd had quite a lot to drink. I smelled it on your breath and I could taste it in your blood."

"Was that a problem?"

"No, but if I'd known, I would have sent Ethan looking for you. The alcohol could have prevented you from sensing me."

"But it didn't."

"Obviously not. The connection is much stronger than I thought."

"What does that mean?" Eames asked.

Summer looked thoughtful. "Honestly, I do not know. So much of what has happened recently is beyond my experience. So much has changed."

"Like what?" Goren asked, innately curious.

"I have changed," she answered. "And I am trying to regain my bearings, to re-establish myself. But I could not, I would not, allow myself to not treat your injury."

"Thank you," he said softly.

Drawing on her earlier conversation with Ethan, Eames said, "Ethan told me that conversion causes fundamental changes in a person. I don't quite get what is so different with you."

After a long pause, Summer quietly said, "Although conversion does cause changes in a person, as a rule, it does not normally change _who_ a person is. I serve as the exception to that rule. When Daniel converted me, I changed. I was not the same person I was in life. I didn't even recognize myself. In four hundred years, I don't think I ever came to terms with that."

"The circumstances of your conversion were extreme," Goren said, his tone gentle.

Summer nodded. "That is true. In life, I was able to feel and experience the emotions of others. I also felt my own emotions very deeply. Daniel always felt that the trauma that led to my conversion was what damaged me. Four centuries have passed and I still have not adjusted to losing so much. I lost the heart of who I was. Daniel thought that over time, my emotions would return, but they never did..." She looked at Goren. "Until you came along."

The contents of the drink Summer had given him were catching up with him, but his expression was warm. "You went to see Daniel. What did he have to say about it?"

"Apparently, I am somewhat of an anomaly. He doesn't know what to think. I only know what happened, and that it happened because of you."

Ethan grinned. "If you were not already bonded..."

"Ethan, be quiet," Summer snapped, but there was no venom in her tone.

He raised his hands and laughed. "I have no complaints. I am the one who reaps the benefits."

"You're incorrigible."

"Which you have known for two hundred years."

As Ethan and Summer focused on each other, Goren leaned over and rested his head on his partner's shoulder. She'd started to get annoyed at Ethan, but now she turned her full attention to Goren. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," he murmured.

She shifted her position, sliding his head into her lap. He offered no resistance, snuggling across her thighs. He closed his eyes and drifted off as Eames gently stroked his hair.

Summer returned her attention to the two detectives, and she smiled. "Good. He needs to sleep."

"What did you put in that drink you gave him?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes, I want to know."

"It's a similar brew to what I gave him after the shooting. There are herbs that fight infection and inflammation, and herbs that promote healing. I also added sedation, so that he will rest comfortably."

"What about your blood?"

"Some of that, too, yes, because of the amount of blood he lost. He shouldn't need any more than I have already given him, unless he continues to bleed, which he should not." She studied Eames. "Trust me. I would never harm him."

Eames looked down at her sleeping partner as she continued to stroke his head. He did seem to be resting easily. "Will he need anything more from you?"

"No. He shouldn't. Ethan and I will take our leave of you."

"We need to know how to get in touch with you."

Ethan nodded with a smile. "Ah, yes. Your statement about Warren."

He walked over to her and pulled a card from his pocket. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek and placed the card in her hand. "Just give me a call."

Summer's gaze lingered on Goren's sleeping form, but she said nothing before following Ethan out the door.

* * *

Deep in the night, Goren woke, disoriented and confused. The sudden change in the rhythm of his breathing woke Eames, who had fallen asleep on the couch with him. "Bobby?"

He grunted softly, then moved, shifting his position. To her surprise, his mouth suddenly covered hers. She relaxed for a moment before breaking the kiss. "Hold on a second there," she chastised. "The last time we did this, you could have bled to death, and I don't want to call Ethan and Summer back here."

"Back? They left?"

She didn't like the disappointment in his tone. "Is that a problem?"

"No. It's not a problem."

She settled herself against him. "I don't mean to sound defensive," she answered, gently rubbing his side below the bandage.

He sighed softly, stroking her back and her hair. He drifted back toward sleep, content to hold her.

"Can I ask you something?" she whispered, resting her chin against his shoulder.

He softly sighed as her breath breezed over his throat. His arm tightened around her waist. "What's that?" he replied softly.

"What happened with your mother Saturday night?"

He tensed. "M-My mother?"

"Obviously, something upset you," she reasoned, caressing him in an attempt to ease his tension.

Sometimes, he forgot how well she knew him. "It was...the sunglasses...they set her off...she thought, I mean, she didn't believe I was me, and she attacked me...with that lamp I gave her for Christmas. The nurses wouldn't let me leave, uh...they removed a ceramic shard from the laceration and wouldn't let me go home until the bleeding stopped."

"Do you remember driving home?"

"Yes. I even remember where I parked the car."

"But you don't remember coming home or Ethan and Summer being here?"

He shook his head. "I, uh, I didn't come right home." He shifted restlessly, uncomfortable with the conversation. "I-I don't sleep very well when you aren't here. So I went to Casey's."

Casey's was one of his favorite haunts. He knew the owner, the bartenders and the waitstaff, and it was just around the block from his apartment. She asked, "Do you remember leaving the bar?"

"Vaguely. I...I just intended to have a couple of drinks, to take the edge off so I could sleep, but I was distracted, an-and I lost track of the time...and of how much I drank."

"Distracted? By what?"

A random flurry of thoughts assaulted his mind at any given time, so there was a multitude of choices for him to name as distractions, but he decided to be honest with her. _All or nothing... _He had committed himself to _all_. "Partly, I was, uh, troubled by what happened with my mom. I should be used to it by now, but I don't suppose that's something anyone gets used to."

He fell silent, and she waited, but after awhile, she realized he wasn't going to continue without gentle prodding, so she pressed, "Okay, part of it was your mom. What else distracted you?"

He looked at her, having no trouble seeing her face in the dark. "You. You did. I mean, I was thinking about you. I always seem to be thinking about you." His mouth formed a small smile. "It's one of my most pleasant distractions, thinking about you."

Her fingers lightly caressed his chest. "What were you thinking about me?"

"The kind of thoughts that always get me in trouble," he confessed. "I...missed you, and I...I don't do so well any more, when you're not around."

His confession, not easily made, warmed her heart. She snuggled closer and softly kissed his cheek. "You know, I miss you, too, when we're apart."

He seemed surprised. "Do you really?"

"Yes," she answered into his ear, which she kissed. Then she rested her head on his shoulder. "Yes, I do."

He pulled her closer and made a soft sound of contentment. Resting his head against hers, he found it easy to return to sleep, and so did she.

* * *

"Do not judge, lest you yourself be judged." (Matthew 7:1)


	23. Caught Between Worlds

Something was wrong. Eames couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew something was wrong. Goren was more restless and agitated than usual, and he was increasingly irritable, fussing at her over things that shouldn't have mattered to him, like which coffee cup she chose to use or that she used two towels to dry herself after her shower. He'd never been critical of her that way before, and she didn't like it now. His headache no longer faded when the sun went down or when he was in a darkened room, and she was growing concerned. She went in to the squad room for a few hours during the day, mainly to give him a break, though it didn't seem to matter. He was just as cranky when she returned as he'd been when she left. It really wasn't like him to be a grouch, but his sweet, amicable nature had changed and she wondered where her kind, equable partner had gone.

He wasn't eating well, either, just picking at his dinner in the evening. He had a few beers, but they didn't seem to help his headache, either. The only relief he seemed to get was when they went to bed, briefly, during the minutes surrounding his climax when he loved her. It never stayed at bay, though, and after she drifted to sleep, he got up and remained up for the rest of the night. She didn't know that he often left the apartment, wandering the darker areas of the city, his black mood daring anyone to cross him. Fortunately, no one did. He returned just before dawn, forcing himself to be gentle when he woke her so he could love her again, finding another few minutes of relief from the persistent pain.

Eames wasn't sure why he wasn't eating or sleeping, but she wondered if that wasn't contributing to his persistent headache and his general bad temper. His attempts to insulate her from his bad humor were failing. In particular, when she pressed him about eating and sleeping, his negative reaction was entirely disproportionate to her gentle coaxing. On top of that, she hated being told to mind her own business, but she tried not to snap back at him, knowing he was in pain. Restraint was becoming more difficult for her, though, and he was teetering precariously close to pushing her too far.

Thursday and Friday he insisted on accompanying her to the squad room, in spite of the environment. The bright lights and the hustle and bustle of the normal business day overstimulated him in a major way. He ended up retreating to a conference room with the lights off to minimize the distractions, but it didn't help to ease the pain behind his eyes. Deakins questioned Eames about him, but she assured him that her partner was all right. He simply hated being at home when there was work to do. Eames was the buffer between Goren's irritability and the captain's concern, assuring Deakins that he was gradually improving when she clearly knew that he was not. She knew that she was lying to him, but she hoped that all he needed was more time. Deep down, however, she knew that wasn't the case, and his mood continued to deteriorate.

Compounding Goren's bad humor was his mother's condition. She showed no improvement and remained sedated, but he refused to discuss her health with Eames, which angered her. When she tried to push it, he snapped at her. His mother was his responsibility, one he adamantly refused to share with anyone but his brother, who had no interest in taking part in her care or even being part of her life, unless he needed something from her. So he was alone, even though Eames knew he did not have to be.

* * *

Late Friday afternoon, she listened in without apology as he talked to his mother's doctor, ignoring the dark looks he cast in her direction as he tried to keep the conversation private. When he ended the call, he was seriously agitated, rubbing both temples in a vain attempt to alleviate the pounding pain behind his eyes. Eames started to say something, but fell silent when the captain approached them.

"Bobby, go home," he said over Goren's right shoulder.

He turned toward the captain. "I'm all right," he insisted.

Deakins shook his head. "I don't want to hear it, and I don't want to see you here until your condition improves."

"What condition?" Goren asked angrily.

Deakins ignored his tone. "I want you to go home and get some rest. "

"Well, we can't always get what we want, can we?" he shot back.

Surprised by his insubordination, Deakins nevertheless remained calm. "If you aren't better Monday, then you're going to see a doctor."

"I don't need a doctor."

"I will be the one to make that decision, and if I have to suspend you until you have medical clearance, I will."

Furious at the open threat, Goren got to his feet. At his full height, he towered over the captain, but Deakins was not intimidated. "Don't force my hand," he said. "Now go home. Eames, see that he gets there."

"I don't need a goddam chaperone," Goren growled, grabbing his binder and storming away.

The captain looked at Eames. "What's going on, Alex? Are you sure he's all right?"

With a sigh, she watched her partner retreat. "His mother is pretty sick right now. It's a huge burden on him, and he keeps that entirely to himself."

"What about his health?"

"He seems to be recovering well, but bright light still bothers him."

Deakins leaned against the desk, quiet for a moment. "So why doesn't he stay home?"

"Because then he'll go stir crazy. This job goes a long way toward defining him, Captain. He'd be lost without it."

Deakins' expression reflected a mix of sympathy and determination. "Then he needs to get his act together."

Eames watched the captain walk off, then she looked toward the elevators. Shoving her files into a drawer, she left the squad room.

* * *

It was late when Goren let himself into his apartment. He closed the door and dropped his keys with the mail on the table beside the door. Weary, he dragged himself toward the kitchen, his mind blurred by worsening pain and fatigue. A noise from the direction of the couch registered at the edge of his awareness, but before he could process it and react, a voice traveled through the darkness, cold and edgy. "It's late."

He stopped near the kitchen doorway, placing his hand on the wall. "Eames..."

"Give me one reason, just one, not to tear into you," she said.

After a moment, he answered, "I don't have one."

She didn't move. "I'm about fed up with you, Goren. You've been a bastard all week long and I am not inclined to take it any more."

"I've tried not to take it out on you," he muttered.

"Well, you weren't successful," she snapped. "Deakins is on the verge of ordering you to a doctor."

Her words were lost. The pounding in his head, intensified by stress and exhaustion, roared in his ears. Although he could see clearly in the darkness, the edges of his vision began to blur and darken. The pain behind his eyes became unbearable, and everything went black.

* * *

Eames wasn't sure at first what happened. She heard a muffled sound from his direction, but in the darkness she couldn't see him. "Goren?"

She was surprised when he failed to answer her, and then she got worried. Standing, she reached over and turned on the lamp beside the couch. Her heart stopped for a moment when she saw him on the floor. "Bobby?"

She hurried to his side as she pulled out her phone, but she hesitated before dialing 911. She felt his pulse and watched the rise and fall of his chest. Unbuttoning his shirt, she pushed it open, examining the wound in his side. She traced the healing red mark with her fingertips. The doctors would ask many questions to which there simply were no easy answers. There was a better option.

She got up and hurried to the counter by the phone, grabbing the business card she had set there the week before. With shaking hands, she dialed the number on the back of the card.

* * *

Eames sat silently on the floor beside her partner until someone knocked on the door. Scrambling to her feet, she hurried across the room, letting Ethan into the apartment. She was surprised to see Jeremy with him; she'd expected Summer. Ethan gave her cheek a quick kiss, then motioned to Jeremy. The two men easily carried Goren to the couch. Eames retrieved a blanket, which Jeremy took from her, covering him. Ethan turned his attention to her, gently guiding her to sit in the recliner. He perched himself on the edge of the coffee table and looked into her face. "What happened?"

"I thought you'd bring Summer," she said. She might not like the healer but she sensed Summer would know what was wrong and what to do about it.

"She's out of town. Tell me what happened to him."

As she began to explain what was going on with Goren, Jeremy brought her a glass of water. When she finished her explanation, Ethan sought clarification. "You say he hasn't been eating or sleeping?"

"Not much, no. I don't know if he's slept at all. But he gets like that when he's under stress. His mother is sick and he isn't able to work the way he's used to working. Or it could be the headaches that won't let him eat or sleep. He complains that he's nauseous when I try to get him to eat more than a couple of bites. Then he gets annoyed with me."

"His headaches have not improved?"

"No. If anything, they've gotten worse."

Ethan's expression turned to one of concern. "You should have called me sooner. Excuse me. I need to make a call."

Eames watched him disappear into the kitchen, phone in hand, and she went after him. Jeremy was busy at the stove, but her attention was on Ethan, whose conversation was short and concise. As he slipped his phone into his pocket, she demanded, "What's going on? Why should I have called you because my partner was being an ass?"

Ethan looked dejected, certainly not his usual look. If she didn't know better, she would say he looked guilty. "We never told you because the chances were so remote..."

Worry gradually replaced her irritation. "Chances? Chances of _what_, Ethan?"

"The partial conversion he underwent...I believe he's having a bad reaction to it."

"What, you mean, like an allergic reaction?"

"Oh, it's much more complicated than that. Partial conversions are rare, not something we ever do under normal circumstances. It is only under extreme circumstances, like what happened to him, that we ever play that game. Extreme circumstances _always _change the rules. With full conversions there is no chance of any kind of adverse reaction because, normally, the conversion is both gradual and complete-and consensual. The mortal becomes full denizen by choice and all is well. Partial conversions are very different and, well, riskier, kind of like experimental medical treatments. He is part denizen and part mortal, yet he isn't fully either one. He has one foot in each world, but he doesn't really belong to either. Sometimes, rarely, the body has a kind of identity crisis. That is what is happening to him."

"So his body is confused? It doesn't know what it wants to be?"

"In a sense, though it isn't that simple."

"No, of course not. Nothing with him is ever simple." Frustrated, she pushed her hair back from her forehead. "You said this happens rarely. How rarely?"

"I know of only four cases in the past two hundred years, although I'm certain Summer knows of more."

"What happened to them?"

Ethan looked at the floor for a moment. "The ones I know of-Summer successfully treated two of them. One became full denizen while the other remained mortal. The other two...did not survive."

She swallowed bile and panic. "What happened to them?"

"One died in a street fight, the other in a bar fight. As you've noticed, irritability and increased aggression are common side effects. Without treatment, I believe it will get worse, until he aggravates the wrong person. Left to run its normal course, the partial conversion generally wears off in a few weeks to several months. In his case, I would lean more toward months. Summer is powerful and she skirted very close to the edge, much closer than she wanted to go."

"Why? Why did she go so close if she knew it was dangerous?"

"Dangerous? Dangerous for who? Darling, if she hadn't brought him as close as she could without full conversion, he would not have survived the shooting. It wasn't carelessness, but necessity that motivated her."

"And if she screwed up?"

Ethan laughed briefly, grateful for the unintended humor of her question. "Summer does not make careless mistakes. But to humor you, if she had miscalculated, he'd be denizen."

"How do you know he's not?"

"This reaction proves he's not. You have met other denizens than myself. We are not aggressive, my dear. It takes quite a lot of provoking to rile us. In fact, it has been so long since I've felt true anger and rage...I cannot recall if I was human or denizen when it happened. No, he's still mortal, and it's the mortal side of him that is...acting out, if you will. That is the part of him that puts him in danger."

"So what do we do?"

Ethan let out a sigh. "Summer is on her way. She will be here tomorrow. Until then, we keep an eye on him."

"And refrain from smacking the crap out of him."

He let out a brief laugh. "That would be preferable, yes. It's not his fault, darling." He gave it some thought. "Think about it as a rejection, as though he's had some sort of transplant and his body is rejecting the foreign tissue. Only instead of fever, pain and illness, this manifests with pain, irritability and aggression."

"How about you deal with him until Summer gets here? I've about had my fill of him."

"It doesn't help knowing this has slipped beyond his control?"

She let out a soft, slow breath. "It does, but I'm still mad at him right now." Her eyes narrowed and she dared Ethan to challenge her next statement. "I am allowed to be mad at him."

Ethan was quiet for a moment."Yes, of course you are. But think about this-you are what Summer calls a safe target."

"A what?"

"Has he provoked any strangers? Grocery clerks, bartenders, the bum on the corner begging for pocket change?"

She shook her head. "No. He's been avoiding most people."

Ethan smiled, pleased. "He is smart. Without even knowing his problem, he takes proper precautions to protect himself and others."

"He's a cop. That's what we do."

"Then his instincts are intact and very deeply rooted."

His tendency to digress from the topic at hand irritated her. "Focus, Ethan. Safe target?"

"Ah, yes-tell me, who has he directed his irritation toward?"

"Me. Our captain to a lesser extent. That's it."

"But mainly you?"

"Yes, Ethan. I have been the unfortunate recipient of his foul mood."

Ethan leaned in closer, his eyes bright. "Consider this scenario, my love. A child is in hospital, hurt, confused, uncertain, and he lashes out. Does he lash out at the doctors, paramedics, nurses-all strangers to him? No. He lashes out-and seeks comfort from-the ones closest to him, usually his parents. They are his safe targets. No matter what he does, no matter how badly he behaves, he knows, beyond all doubt, that they will never turn on him. If he lashes out and strikes his mother in a fit of anger, he trusts that she will not retaliate. He doesn't trust the strangers not to hurt him. So even though his fear and anger may stem from the strangers, he expresses himself to his parents, because they will still love him no matter what he does. On a basic, subconscious level, you are his safe target."

Eames was torn. Part of her was hurt and angered by Goren's recent behavior, but if what Ethan said was true, if she was her partner's safe target, then she was probably the only real one he'd ever had in his life. That was huge. She wasn't ready to let go of her anger, but she was having a hard time holding onto it. "When did you say Summer was going to be here?"

"Tomorrow. She will take care of him. In the meanwhile, I have some of her herbs with me, ones that she has taught me to use. I can brew him a tea that will calm him and help him maintain better control of his anger."

She thought about it before she nodded. "Make the tea."

She returned to the living room and sat down in a nearby chair, watching her partner sleep. She couldn't hold it against him if he was sick, but she was still irritated. Apparently, the lack of sleep caught up with him in a big way. But he was still restless. Perhaps the tea Ethan was brewing would help him, maybe even slow the course of his illness. She wished she'd known to call Ethan sooner, and she was angry with him and Summer for not warning them about this potential complication. She never thought she would want Summer around, or that she would hope the healer would arrive quickly. She had hoped to never see her again.


	24. Escalation

Eames tried to relax in the recliner, but her mind kept going over the events of the past week. Ethan brought her a glass of water and sat nearby. She drank it slowly as she watched Goren's restless sleep. He'd been so out-of-sorts all week, except...except when he loved her. Something changed during those times, which was the main reason she hadn't resorted to denying him his pleasure. He seemed more relaxed and his pain faded, at least for a few minutes. Unfortunately, just as he seemed ready to drift to sleep, the pain returned and he withdrew from her again, physically and emotionally. But for that brief time, at night and before dawn, he still belonged completely to her, and she wasn't willing to give that up.

"What are you thinking about?" Ethan asked quietly.

Startled from her reverie, she looked at him and shrugged. "I just want him back to himself."

"That's an odd choice of words."

"Well, he hasn't been himself all week, except..." She stopped short of admitting what she was thinking.

"Except?"

"Never mind."

"No, tell me. It could be important."

"Are you sure you're not just being nosy?"

He laughed softly. "Well, maybe a little. But we never know what could be significant."

Her temper flared and she snapped, "My sex life is not significant to you, Ethan."

He did not seem surprised by her admission. "Ah...I understand. Except when he made love to you. Does he seem himself then?"

Her irritation faded as she thought back, warmed by the memories of their encounters. The flush of his skin, his tender kisses, the pure love in his eyes...his eyes..."Ethan, his eyes..."

"What about them?"

"His eyes...there is something wrong with his eyes. When he loved me this week, when I looked into his eyes...they were _different _than they were the rest of the time."

Ethan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Something isn't right."

"You think?"

He smiled at her. "You're such a delight, Alex."

As usual, she ignored his comment. The change in Goren's eyes troubled her. The change had registered subconsciously, but she knew it had happened. Then she wondered...could Summer have taken him too far, intentionally or not? "What are the chances Summer...miscalculated?"

Ethan shook his head slowly. "No. Summer knows what she is doing. She is experienced. I am certain she made no error."

On the couch, Goren grew more restless. He groaned softly. Eames hated that he was in pain. Ethan stood. "Let me warm the tea I prepared for him."

Eames moved to the couch as Goren opened his eyes, which seemed to flash at her for a moment before settling back to the yellow she was unhappily used to seeing. They were more yellow than amber, though, and that disturbed her. Maybe it was the lighting, but there also seemed to be a ring of green around his irises that had never been there before. She had to be imagining it. There was no reason for his eyes to keep changing. "How do you feel?" she asked softly.e same dull pounding behind his eyes was still there, though it wasn't quite as severe. "My head still hurts," he answered, annoyed.

Ethan came into the room, carrying a mug of tea. "Ah, you're awake."

"What are you doing here?" Goren snapped.

Eames gave Ethan a look that said 'see?' Ethan smiled, masking his concern. "Just a mite snippy, aren't we?"

"Go home, Ethan."

The club owner placed the tea on the table near him. "You should drink this. It will help you feel better."

Goren stared at the cup, but made no move to take it. Eames lifted it and held it out to him. "Drink."

"I'm not thirsty."

Eames let her irritation get the better of her and snapped, "Stop being so damn difficult. Just drink the tea. It will tide you over until your girlfriend gets here."

Both Goren and Ethan looked at her in confusion. Goren pushed himself to a sitting position. His eyes seemed to change, becoming softer. Eames didn't know if it was the light or the fact that she _wanted _to see that in his eyes. He stuttered for a moment, almost like his normal self. "B-But...you...you are my..." he trailed off, a knot tightening in his gut. "Aren't you?"

She clearly heard his uncertainty and his fear, but she could not bring herself to swallow her anger and reassure him just yet. "Just drink the tea," she answered.

A wave of sudden anger welled up inside him and he knocked the cup from her hand. It hit the edge of the coffee table and broke. "I told you I don't want any damn tea. I want an answer."

"Well, you don't always get what you want, do you?" she growled, throwing his words back at him.

She walked away and went into the kitchen to gather herself. She was still so angry with him, something that had been slowly building all week. At the moment, it was a monster she couldn't completely control. She didn't want to take it all out on him, trying to be sensitive to the fact that something was wrong with him.

When Goren started to get up, Ethan cautioned, "Now is not the best time for you and Alex to have a confrontation, detective."

"What do you know about it?" Goren snapped.

Ethan's concern for the detective increased. He had already progressed to the point where he was unable to censure himself. It was more serious than he thought. He knew that Summer would be able to help him, but her options would be limited. It had been a week. The past cases he knew of had lasted little more than a week. He was very worried, frowning as he sat down in the nearby recliner. His tone remained calm and gentle. "You are ill, my friend. Summer will be here tomorrow, and hopefully it will not take long for her to treat you. Until then, it's important that you drink the tea I brewed for you."

"I don't want any of Summer's potions. I'm nauseous enough."

As he'd told Eames, Ethan had only seen this adverse reaction a few times, but he recognized it. The man was not himself and he hoped Eames would keep that in mind. The situation could easily escalate out of control.

"I can add something for the nausea. You really need to drink it. Your condition is very serious and the medicine I brew will help you until Summer gets here. I know you trust me, detective. I will brew another cup of tea, and I need you to drink it for me...or for her, if you prefer. She is distressed by your illness."

"She worries too much," he said as he dropped back onto the couch, but he didn't say no to the tea. Ethan returned to the kitchen, glancing at Eames as he took the bundle of medicinal herbs Jeremy held out to him. As he measured out the herbs, he offered, "Would you like a cup as well, Alex?"

"Are you trying to sedate me, too, Ethan?"

He smiled at her. "Not at all. I would give you a very small amount, nowhere near what I'm brewing for him. It will calm you, that's all."

She was keyed up and tense, her belly in knots. "Oh, what the hell...sure. Why not? It can't hurt."

He retrieved another small pot. "It certainly can't."

When she headed for the living room, Ethan turned to say something, but she was already gone. All he could do was hope her patience would hold out.

Eames sat down in the recliner, but she didn't say anything. Goren opened his eyes and looked at her wearily. "I'm not a player," he said defensively. "I'm not my father or my brother."

"I never thought you were."

"And yet you accuse me of sleeping with Summer?"

"I did not," she protested.

"Then what the hell does the term 'girlfriend' mean to you?"

She shook her head. She didn't want to fight with him, but she wasn't going to back down, either. "Why don't you just try to sleep?"

"Don't you think I've _been_ trying?"

"Honestly, Bobby, I don't know what the hell you've been doing all week. I just know you've been difficult most of the time."

He'd been out of sorts for the past few days, but he didn't think he'd been as bad as she made him out to be. What did concern him, though, were the lapses he noticed in his memory. He'd never experienced anything like that before, and he didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps it was his body's reaction to his insomnia or his unrelenting headache, which made the most sense to him. "M-Most of the time...?"

"Yeah, most of the time—unless you wanted sex, you've been an ass."

Her irritation with him, he felt, was out of line. He didn't think he deserved her anger, and that flared his own temper. "Couldn't you just leave me alone if you knew I wasn't feeling right?"

His accusation and the tone in which he delivered it tipped her over the edge and she blew up at him. "You want me to leave you alone? Fine, I can do that!"

She pushed herself out of the chair, and he got off the couch. He moved around to confront her. "You just have to push, don't you?" he growled.

Not one to be intimidated by him, she growled back, "That's the only way I can ever get anything out of you!"

"Out of me? What about you, Eames? Your all or nothing ultimatum applies only to me. You never talk to me!"

"You know what? I think I've had just about all of you I'm going to take. I'm done." She shoved her way past him and headed for the door.

He watched her storm across the room, waiting until she reached the door before he said, "So that's it? Are we through?"

She turned, allowing her anger to get the better of her as she bit out, "Are you asking because you have someone waiting in the wings?" It was a below-the-belt blow and she knew it.

Goren got very still, his expression one of someone who'd just received an unexpected injury. He stared at her in silence, neither moving nor responding. Finally, he backed up a few steps, hands raised, and turned. He crossed the room and went down the hallway to his bedroom, slamming the door.

Ethan poked his head out of the kitchen, first looking down the now-empty hall, then looking at Eames. He'd overheard the end of the argument, which was over before he could intervene. "Someone in the wings? What does that mean?"

"Are you really that dense, Ethan?"

"Apparently." He hesitated, then moved further into the room as understanding dawned. "Are you referring to Summer?"

"Is there someone else I should be referring to?"

"Alex, I truly do not understand your insecurity over Summer. I have tried to explain—Summer will never step in to interfere with your relationship, no matter how attracted to him she might be."

"Save it, Ethan," she said angrily. "He doesn't own me! If I walk away, it's over."

Ethan motioned toward the couch. "Sit, darling. We need to talk."

Eames hesitated, but finally moved to perch on the edge of the couch. Ethan took time to gather his thoughts as he sat beside her. Finally, he spoke. "You do not seem to understand the bond you have with him."

"Look, Ethan, I get it that something is off with him, but he has been insufferable all damn week and I'm done with it. If he's going to continue behaving like that, then I'm done with _him_. He can find someone else to take out his mood on."

Ethan remained silent, thinking. He knew he would have to be persuasive and he had to choose his words carefully. Finally, he reached out and took her hand. She allowed it. "Alex," he said softly. "This bond is more than just love and more than simply the joining of two lovers. It's a bond which intertwines the souls. He seems to feel it more deeply than you, perhaps because he is more receptive to it. You are cynical by nature, reluctant to accept things you cannot see or touch, things of the soul, especially on just the word of others. Whether it's your natural reluctance or some other circumstance in your life, there is something that keeps you at a distance from him." He saw a protest brewing. "I do not say you don't love him, dear. I know you do, and you always will. Love certainly exists without the joining of two souls. As we told you—it is rare and wonderful. But it isn't always permanent. As a heart can be broken so can the bond between souls."

"So then what happens?"

Ethan sighed sadly. "If it's mutual, the pain is shared, and each takes a piece of the other with them. They move on. If it's not..." He made a hopeless gesture. "...a shattered heart may be pieced back together, but it will never be complete." He paused, absently rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, a gesture she found reassuring. "One of you is more at risk of being shattered than the other."

It was an odd position she found herself in. Historically, Goren had always been the one to withhold part of himself. Lately, though, he'd been making real strides toward letting her into the inner sanctum of his heart. It was she who withheld, and Ethan's observation angered her. "You don't know what you're talking about," she snapped.

"But I do. I have not been Summer's companion all these years without learning much of what she knows. I have seen souls bound together as one, and I have seen what happens when that bond is broken." He knew she was considering both options, and that told him a great deal. "You have held back, kept from giving part of yourself to him, all the while demanding that he give all of himself to you. He has done that, as hard as it was for him."

His observations surprised her. "How do you know that? How can you know it was hard for him to do that?"

He wasn't sure just how much he should tell her. Full disclosure might add to her already deep resentment of Summer. "Trust that I know what I am talking about."

Suspicion tickled the back of her mind, battling with a flutter of jealousy. "Summer," she accused. "How the hell does she know so much about him?"

He sighed. She wasn't one to accept anything on faith. "She is an empath, and she shared blood with him. I already told you they have a connection because of that. She knows his life has been filled with betrayal and abandonment, that every one he has loved has turned on him and walked away. Even so, he opens himself to you. That is extraordinary."

Already irritated, Eames felt her anger grow as both suspicion and jealousy flared into something she could not control. She hated feeling it, but it would not stay away. "I'm not going to leave him entirely," she declared, defending herself. "He's my partner and I'm not going to walk away from that."

"You have no faith in the bond, even though you have felt its power." He felt saddened by the revelation. Then he sighed and said, "If the bond is broken, he will take nothing of you away. I cannot say the same for him. It will be devastating. He will never be complete again."

"Was he ever complete to start with, Ethan? Did Summer tell you _that_?"

She had, but he did not admit it. "Alex, the decision is yours. All I can do is counsel you to be certain. If you have truly made up your mind to walk away, there is nothing that will stop you. I only ask that you be absolutely certain because of the damage you will cause by breaking this bond."

She studied his face, unable to cast her suspicions away. "Why are you fighting so hard for this? You have nothing invested in my relationship with him. In fact, if I were to leave him, I would be free to be with you."

Her directness amused him, and she pointed out something her had not considered. But, as attractive as that option was to him, he cared enough about both detectives to want their bond to remain intact. "That is not a consideration," he said gently. "You were not meant for me. You were meant for him."

His words tumbled through her heart. She'd felt the same way until now. There was more to it than simply her irritation with him. He was pulling away from her, back into his shell, for no reason she knew. She tried to pull him back, but that had only driven him further away. "What will happen to him if I do choose to step away?"

He studied her face. "I think you know the answer to that."

"I want to hear your take on it."

"My opinion doesn't matter, dear."

"I still want to hear it."

He sighed in resignation. "He would no longer be yours," he said simply.

"He would be hers," she said, no longer trying to hide the strong emotion that ground her insides to hamburger.

Ethan spoke carefully. "I will not deny that Summer would take him in an instant if he were to become available. If anyone can heal a shattered heart and a broken soul, it is she. You have made clear your repulsion at the idea of his conversion, but I assure you, once you are no longer a...consideration, he will choose conversion. It may very well be his only path to survival at that point."

"So if I don't go in there and make up with him, you're saying Summer will take him?"

"Of course not. What transpires between you is your own business. Summer will never take him from you. She will only act if you give him up. I refer only to the bond between you. It was strong but it is weakening, and no one can change that but you. "

She sat in silence as he got up and returned to the kitchen to finish brewing the tea. But he remained aware of where she was, and when she got up and headed for the hallway, he stepped to the kitchen doorway and cautioned, "Alex, make this decision based on what is in your heart. Do not go to him, and remain with him, solely to keep him from Summer."

She hesitated but then continued down the hall without answering him.

She knocked softly on the door and then pushed it open. He stood by the window, resting his arm against the wall beside it as he rubbed his temple. She approached slowly. He didn't hear her so he didn't move until she touched his arm. Startled, he jerked away from her, turning suddenly and backing into the corner. She had never seen such pain in his eyes before, and the chance that she could be responsible for any of it pierced her heart like a knife. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, but he squared his shoulders, resolute. "You can go home," he said quietly. "I don't want you here if you don't want to be here."

"Suppose I do want to be here?"

"I'm tired, Eames. At every turn you throw Summer in my face, even though I have never shown any preference for her." His tone turned defensive. "You continue to punish me for something I didn't do!"

"Are you saying if I left, you wouldn't go to her?"

He shook his head. "She would come to me. But if you leave, then you no longer have any say in my personal life. What I do, and who I do it with, would no longer be your concern."

Ethan's voice rumbled through her head. _You were meant for him._ "And if I stay?"

"I'm not sure I want you to stay. You don't fucking trust me. I'm tired of defending myself for nothing! I-I'm just...I'm just so damn tired...of everything."

He slid to the floor covering his head with his arms. He was beyond exhausted. Life had become unbearable for him and he was tired of fighting.

Eames saw the defeat in every curve of his body, and she wondered if she alone had driven him to it. _When the bond is broken... _Was this what happened? Was it now true that Summer was his only chance to survive, if he even wanted to survive? Had her jealousy finally tipped the scales, severing their bond and thus making him Summer's instead of hers?

He was not the type to jump from one relationship into another. In fact, under ordinary circumstances, she doubted he would ever enter into another relationship after her if she broke his heart, which she had no doubt she'd do by leaving him. He would seek out lovers to meet his body's needs, but they would mean nothing to him. But these were not ordinary circumstances. He had a connection to Summer, one she did not understand. He would be comfortable in her care, and given the recent changes he had apparently caused in her, they would do well together. Summer would be able to give him what she had been unable to give until now.

The confusion in her mind suddenly broke and it became clear that she had a choice before her, but it was not an easy choice. Ethan was right. She had not committed herself as completely to Goren as he had to her. If she turned and left the room, she would be leaving him, and he would belong to Summer. She would continue to work with him, but anything else between them would be gone, forever. Was that what she wanted, to no longer belong to him, to lose him forever to Ethan and his denizens? Remembering the days when she had not been part of his life outside work, she asked herself if that was the relationship to which she honestly wanted to return.

Her other choice was to go to him, but in doing so, she had to be willing to give herself to him completely. Her all or nothing ultimatum, so easily given to him, had to turn back and apply to her as well, for without it, the bond between them would never be complete. Whatever she decided, there was no going back, so she had to be absolutely sure that her decision was the right one. If she left, she would never get him back. If she stayed, she could never let him go. She had to decide which she was better able to do: commit herself to him or let him go.

Undecided, she remained rooted where she was, the ramifications of both decisions swirling through her head. When she lost Joe, she had changed. That loss had rendered her incapable of putting her whole self into another relationship. She fiercely protected the innermost parts of her heart from all outsiders, even Goren. What she demanded of Goren she had been unable to give him in return. The fact that he demanded so little of her had made it that much easier to keep the deepest part of herself sequestered away. She would no longer be able to do that. It had been a challenge to break through his shell to find her way into his heart, a path within herself that had remained closed to him. If he'd known, he never gave a clue. He always seemed willing to take just as much as she was willing to offer and demand no more, where she had not been willing to do the same.

The bottom line was that he loved her enough to let her in. The question she now faced asked if she loved him enough to do the same.

She continued to stand there, thinking about the twists and turns their relationship had taken over the past four years. She searched in vain for the moment she'd fallen for him, but for the life of her, she couldn't ever remember not loving him. Looking forward, she realized that a future without him was too bleak to consider.

She stepped forward slowly and lowered herself to her knees beside him. "Bobby," she said softly.

Her voice drifted to him and he shuddered. Raising his head, he whispered, "Alex."

She didn't know how he could put so much emotion into the speaking of her name. She heard grief and love and desperation...

He reached for her, pulling her to him. He kissed her, a soft apology that escalated into desperate need. His hands shook as he worked off her clothes. She responded to him with passion, breaking the kiss only long enough to slide his t-shirt over his head. He pulled her back to him roughly, again claiming her mouth. She undid his jeans as she kicked her own pants off her feet. Rolling her onto her back on the floor, he continued to rain kisses over her skin as he push his jeans off. By the time he positioned himself over her, she was jerking her hips toward him. He moved over her, never moving his mouth from her skin. Ablaze with need, she squirmed beneath him, and he groaned. When he could no longer take it, he thrust into her and opened his eyes.

She looked back at him, watching the yellow and green fade to an amber glow ringed with dark brown. "Bobby," she whispered.

He silenced her with a kiss that sent her head spinning and she forgot what she wanted to say. She thrust her torso up to meet his and wriggled her hips, which sent ripples of pleasure radiating through them both. He groaned, desperate for more. Everything she loved most about him was there, in his touch, in his movements, in the soft noises he made. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gave herself to him, and he brought her to an explosive climax, holding back from his own with great difficulty until she began to relax beneath him. Then he let go with a deep groan and a shudder. As he began to come out of it, he opened his eyes, still above her. Looking deep into her eyes, he whispered with desperate conviction, "I love you."

Then he shuddered again with a groan of deep pain. "Alex," he muttered. "Please, help me."

Another spasm of pain wracked his body and he rolled off her. He curled onto his side, holding his stomach with one arm as he pressed his other hand against his head. She touched his bare back. "Bobby," she whispered as she rolled against his back.

He was breathing hard, his skin clammy with sweat, and he pulled away from her. Anger seeped from every pore as he yanked on his clothes before turning to glare at her. His eyes had changed once again. Both hands were clasped into fists, but he left the room without saying anything to her.

She dressed quickly and hurried after him, but it was too late. Ethan knelt on the floor beside Jeremy, whose mouth was bleeding, and Goren was gone.

Eames grabbed a towel from the kitchen, moistened it with water, then hurried to kneel beside Ethan and Jeremy. She dabbed at the blood on Jeremy's mouth. "What happened?"

"I tried to convince him not to leave," Jeremy said. "He hit me."

Ethan looked at the open door. "He is escalating quickly. We may be too late."

Eames sat back on her heels. "I'm not so sure this is what you think it is, Ethan. His eyes...his eyes keep changing."

"That makes no sense."

"I'm just telling you what I've seen."

"You saw this change?"

"Just now, yes. And he begged me to help him just before they changed back. Then he got angry and stormed out of the room."

Puzzled, Ethan got to his feet. "I need to call Summer."

* * *

It was very late when Goren returned to the apartment, bruised and bloody. Eames sat on the couch, waiting for him. She knew he could see her, even though she couldn't see him. "What are you doing up?" he demanded.

"I was waiting for you."

"Why?" His voice sounded rough, and she didn't like that.

"You really have to ask that question?" She balled her hands into fists and said, "Come over here, Bobby."

After a moment of hesitation, he moved. She heard him cross the room toward her, then she heard a rustle of movement. Goren grunted half a second before he crashed to the floor under the weight of Ethan, Jeremy and Gerard, who came right over after Ethan called him several hours earlier. She listened to the struggle, but she couldn't see anything more than shadows, not enough to tell what was going on.

As the sounds of the struggle grew weaker and then finally stopped, she cautiously stood up. "Ethan?"

"We got him," Ethan's voice came back through the dark.

She switched a nearby lamp on low. The three men squinted at her, but their eyes adjusted to the low light. All three had been denizens for a long time. She looked at her partner's still form on the floor, then back at Ethan, who held up a syringe and grinned at her. "He's all right?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, darling, he's fine. Summer was adamant that we subdue him and then keep him out. I don't know if she knows what's going on, but she can't assess him until she gets here. She should arrive around dawn."

She looked at Goren again, noting the blood and bruises on his face. "Please tell me you boys did that to him."

"Unfortunately, no. It appears he was brawling. Gerard?"

"I'll look into it."

He was gone in an instant. Eames got to her feet as Ethan motioned to Jeremy. "Let's settle him on the couch."

The two men carried Goren to the couch, and Eames covered him with a blanket. It didn't pass her notice that they were very gentle with him. Regardless of what he may have done in his current state, Ethan and his men still held him in high regard. She watched Jeremy adjust the blanket and she couldn't help smiling. He'd punched Jeremy in the face, yet the denizen chef carried no grudge. Oddly, Abraham Lincoln's words entered her head: _With malice toward none, with charity for all._ She laughed unexpectedly and the two men looked at her. She shook her head and waved her hand. "I spend way too much time with my partner."

"Is that a problem?" Ethan asked.

She looked down at Goren's unconscious form. "No, not at all," she answered as she reached out and lightly fingered his hair, which was damp with sweat. "Do you have _any_ idea what's going on with him?"

He shook his head. "No, but there is more to this than what we thought. This is not a reaction to his partial conversion, not entirely, anyway. It's something more. All we can do is keep him sedated and wait for Summer to get here."

Eames looked back at Goren. Leaning down, she softly kissed him and whispered, "We'll help you."

He groaned softly at her touch and the sound of her voice, then fell back into silence.

* * *

Throughout the night, whenever Goren began to stir, Ethan would deliver another dose of sedative. "Are you sure you're not going to overdose him?" Eames asked from her place in the recliner.

"The last time I talked to her, Summer said there was no danger of that. She may have an idea of what's happening. She will tell us what she knows when she's certain."

"I hate this, Ethan."

He nodded. "I understand. I don't like it any better than you do, my dear."

She could tell he was worried, and she found herself liking him more. "Ethan," she began, stopping when her throat closed off.

He gave her a reassuring smile and moved to sit on the coffee table in front of her, taking her hand. "Have faith," he said softly, with conviction. "I trust Summer to know what to do. She is deeply fond of him, and she will do all she can for him." He paused then squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you chose to stay."

She looked at him with a forlorn expression, and when he drew her toward him, she willingly leaned into his embrace. "He will survive," he whispered, placing an affectionate kiss on her head. "I promise."

Even if he made that promise out of pure faith in Summer, she didn't care. She had to believe him because she had nothing else to hold onto.


	25. Caesarian Connection

Just before three a.m., someone knocked on the door. Jeremy opened it to admit Gerard. Ethan was sitting on the floor by the couch, Alex stretched out along the length of the couch with her head resting on his thigh, sleeping out of sheer exhaustion. "What did you find out?" Ethan asked quietly.

"He killed no one."

Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. "Injuries?"

"Survivable. They will recover."

"Did they identify him?"

"No. Neither of them got a clear look at him. It was too dark."

"Thank you, Gerard."

Jeremy motioned to him. "Come into the kitchen for a snack."

Gerard smiled at him. "That may just hit the spot."

Ethan looked at Eames. He'd meant the promise he'd given her. Summer seemed to know what was going on and he had an unwavering faith in her that had little to do with his affection for her. He knew she was skilled and powerful. Behind his head, Goren stirred, groaning softly, then he fell silent again.

* * *

Goren began to stir again around dawn. Ethan slipped out from under Eames' head, sliding a pillow in place where his leg had been. As he began to draw another dose of sedative, a knock sounded at the door. Goren groaned and shifted, his soft sounds waking Eames, who sat up. Jeremy opened the door to admit Summer. Ethan was deeply relieved to see her. "I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you, my love."

She gave him a smile, then looked at the couch with worried eyes. Goren tossed restlessly. His eyes opened suddenly and he looked directly at Summer. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and smiled at her. "Summer," he said with an odd timbre in his voice. His eyes glowed with lust and his tone was thick with desire. "It has been far too long."

Summer said nothing. Behind her, a man stepped into the apartment. He was tall and lean but well-muscled, with black, shoulder-length hair and high cheekbones. He looked like a teenager, but his dark eyes reflected centuries of wisdom. He had a commanding air around him. The look on Goren's face changed. "Daniel," he said. "My old friend."

Daniel studied him with suspicion. Goren's eyes narrowed in response. "Tell me you don't recognize me, Daniel." He folded his arm over his chest. "I am crushed."

Daniel's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he recognized the gesture. "Marcellus," he said. "What are you doing?"

Goren sat up and stretched. "I am living again, dear friend. I am correcting your mistake."

Daniel smiled a cold, dangerous smile. "I made no mistake with you, old _friend_."

Eames eased away from the couch to stand near Ethan, who wrapped a protective arm around her. She continued to watch the man she loved who was not the man she loved, listening to his voice which didn't sound like his voice. She struggled to maintain control, appreciating Ethan's protective gesture. Normally, she would have shaken him off, but she was off balance on all fronts and she needed the comfort he offered her.

Ethan watched Daniel with apprehension. _Marcellus..._ That was a name he had not heard in a very long time, a name he hoped he would never hear again. This was beyond his experience, and he was glad Daniel was there. If what he thought was going on, they were all in for a very rough ride.

Daniel stepped forward, positioning himself between Goren and Summer. "You can't do this, Marcellus. You can't take this one's life for your own."

Goren laughed. It was his laugh, and yet, it wasn't. "You can no longer order me around, Daniel. I am no longer one of your denizens. You took care of that a long time ago."

"Yes, I did, and it should have remained so."

Summer looked toward Ethan and caught his eye while Daniel talked to Marcellus. She made a slight motion with one hand and he nodded. Moving slowly, he led Eames to the recliner and silently urged her to sit. She went along with him. Goren glanced at them but returned his attention to Daniel, who presented the greater threat. Ethan picked up the case that held the sedative and syringes. Still moving slowly, he finished drawing the dose of medication he'd started when Summer and Daniel arrived. He looked at Eames, who nodded at him, understanding what he needed to do.

Launching herself from the chair, she stormed over to Summer and Daniel. "What the hell is going on here!" she demanded.

Goren looked at her with interest, and the same look he'd given Summer returned to his face. His eyes glowed with desire and need. "Alex," he said. "He calls you Alex."

"Because that's my name," she retorted.

He continued to scrutinize her. "His lover," he leered. "He gets strength from you. When he was with you, that was the only time he was able to overpower me. But that won't happen again. The time you spent together earlier was your last. Whatever you said to him, it was good-bye. Before this day ends, he will die."

Ethan had managed to sneak around behind Goren while Eames had him distracted, and he lunged at him, plunging the needle into his side and depressing the plunger. Goren yelled and lurched, knocking Ethan down. He lunged toward Eames, but Ethan jumped up and grabbed him, keeping him away from her. Gerard and Jeremy leaped forward to help him. The injection acted very quickly, and Goren dropped to his knees. He looked at Eames, eyes pleading, and it _was_ Goren. "Bobby," she whispered, taking a step forward.

"No!" Summer said sharply, grabbing her and yanking her out of his reach.

"Summer!" he called out, Marcellus once again in control.

But Marcellus could not overcome the effect of the sedative on the body he'd taken over. Goren collapsed, and his eyes slid closed. Eames watched him with a pained expression as Summer released her. "My apologies," she said. "I could not let him grab you. He would have harmed you."

Eames shook her head, watching Ethan, Jeremy and Gerard lift Goren back onto the couch. "No, he wouldn't have."

"That is not Robert. He will use your lover to lure you in, and then take over again. Robert has no control over what Marcellus does. You do not know Marcellus, but we do, and you must trust us."

"You don't know Bobby. He wouldn't hurt me or let anyone else harm me."

Summer's tone was firm. "I agree, but if he cannot overpower Marcellus, there is nothing he can do to protect you."

"Marcellus..." She tore her gaze away from her fallen partner and looked at Summer, then Daniel. "You have explaining to do."

"I agree with Alex," Ethan said. He was definitely not used to being out of the loop. He motioned toward the kitchen. "We have to talk."

They went into the kitchen and sat at the table, while Jeremy and Gerard remained nearby, listening. Daniel started, addressing Eames. "I am Daniel, an elder of the Council."

Eames nodded. "Summer mentioned you. What she didn't tell us is that you're twelve."

Daniel and Ethan both laughed, while Summer looked amused. "You were right, Ethan," Daniel said. "She is delightful. I assure you, I am well past the age of twelve, although physically...I was sixteen when I was converted in your year 1452. Denizens found their way to the New World with Viking explorers, and I was one of the first of my people to be converted."

"Violently?" she asked.

"Actually, no. I was converted by a slave girl named Hilda." His eyes glowed as he smiled at the memory. "She returned to her country with her people, and I remained here with mine. But we will have time for origin tales later. Right now, Marcellus is our problem, and we do not have much time to deal with him."

Ethan asked, "Is this the same Marcellus I met in Chicago?"

"Unfortunately."

"How is that possible?"

Eames waved her hand. "Hello? Who is Marcellus and what has he done to Bobby?"

Daniel explained, "Marcellus was a Roman patrician. He lived during the time of Caesar."

"Caesar? As in Julius? The one who was killed by Roman senators in..." The date escaped her. Goren would know, and that struck her like a physical blow. She fell silent.

Ethan shifted closer to her and closed his hand over hers. The physical contact grounded her, and she had some appreciation for what she did for her partner. Daniel nodded slowly. "Yes. The same Gaius Julius Caesar who was assassinated in 44 B.C. Marcellus was converted two years after Caesar died. He was forty-eight years old."

"Does that make a difference? Your age at conversion? I mean, you were all teenagers or young adults, but you seem powerful."

Daniel rubbed his forehead. "Yes and no. There are a lot of factors that add to a denizen's power. How old is Robert?"

"Forty-three."

Summer smiled. "He seems younger, and older."

Eames surprised herself when she returned Summer's smile. "He's funny that way. He never seems like what he is. It's one of the things about him that drives me up a wall, but I love it, too. Sometimes, I don't know what I feel, except that I love him."

Ethan's hand tightened over hers as Daniel said, "He would become powerful. He has that quality about him. Ethan and Summer have similar powerful souls. Mortal lifespan actually has less bearing on what we become as denizens than other qualities. What happened to Summer while treating him...we don't know what he did, and I'm sure he doesn't know, either, but that is one of those qualities that would make him powerful."

"Look, Daniel, if you came here looking to convince him to convert, you wasted a trip."

He smiled. "It was not a wasted trip, I assure you. I wanted to meet him—and you. It's a good thing I was on my way here with Summer when Ethan called. As for making him denizen, I'm sure Summer explained that he would have to be willing in order for us to convert him. No pressure."

Though still wary, Eames steered the subject back to Marcellus, wondering if all denizens went off on tangents when they talked. If that were the case, her partner would fit right in with them. "About Marcellus? All I know is that he lived in Rome at the time of Caesar."

"Oh, he more than lived in Rome. He was a senator."

She sat straighter in her chair. "Was he involved...?"

Daniel nodded. "He was a leader of the assassination, a very cunning and powerful senator, yet it was Brutus and Longinus who went down in history as the instigators of the crime." He sighed. "Something you must understand is that among us, there is no good and evil. We do follow a moral code, most of us willingly, but we leave the trappings of mortal life behind. Converts are usually chosen carefully by us, but sometimes we are forced to just take a chance."

"Like you did with Summer?"

"Not quite. I knew Summer. More like what Summer did with Robert, or rather, what she would have done if he'd been willing. But I do not question her judgment. Every convert she has made has become an asset to our community. Unfortunately, sometimes we are not so careful. That was the case with Marcellus. He was planning the assassination of Octavius so he could seize power when he was attacked. A denizen found him and saved him. Another thing you should know is that it is extremely difficult to destroy one of us. At one time, we did not think it could be done. Marcellus changed that perception. If there ever lived an evil man, he is it. He should never have been converted as his death would have been for the betterment of mankind."

"So he killed a denizen?"

"More than a dozen denizens in the eighty-seven years he was here." His eyes grew sad at the memory of lost friends. "They were good people. He came to this country in the years before the Revolution. I don't know how many bodies he left behind in Europe. A substantial number, I would imagine, over more than eight centuries."

"Was he killed?" she asked, using the word 'killed' for lack of a more accurate term.

"Yes," Daniel answered. "I destroyed him, one hundred and fifty years ago. Or rather, I thought I destroyed him. Apparently, I was mistaken."

Eames looked at Ethan, who motioned to Jeremy. The chef brought her a glass of water. "It is a lot to take in," Summer admitted.

After taking a long drink, Eames said, "Tell me what he's doing to my partner."

The three denizens exchanged looks before Daniel said, "Apparently, Marcellus has been around, though I can't imagine in what form. When did Robert's erratic behavior begin?"

"At the beginning of the week," Eames answered.

Summer took over the explanation. "This is very complicated." She paused, glancing at Daniel, who nodded. She continued, "Marcellus was destroyed in Chicago in the fall of 1854. We thought it was over, but apparently we were wrong."

Daniel said, "I have to confer with my peers in other parts of the world before I can formulate a complete picture of what happened. Right now, the only explanation I have is that Marcellus was a denizen for a very long time, and he did not go easily. His essence, his evil, remained intact. What I am thinking is somehow, he found Robert. His partial conversion made him vulnerable in some way. Marcellus began to influence him, which is when he began to change. As the week progressed and Robert continued to be deprived of sleep, Marcellus took advantage of his weakening condition to...move in, if you will. They have been battling for control all week, but Robert is no match for Marcellus, except in one area."

Eames' head was spinning. "What area?"

"You, darling," Ethan said.

"Me?"

Daniel nodded agreement. "Marcellus said Robert was best able to overpower him when he was with you."

Ethan squeezed her hand. "I was mistaken when I told you that your bond was weakening. It has been growing stronger, and that may be the key to saving him."

"Ethan is right," Daniel said. "He has a strong connection to Summer, but it is nothing compared with his bond to you. We will need to rely on both of you to save him from Marcellus."

Eames interjected, "How can you fight something you can't see or fully understand?"

"It is not easy," Daniel agreed.

"But it can be done," Summer finished.

Ethan squeezed her hand again. "It _will _be done," he affirmed.

Feeling increasingly unsettled, Eames looked around the table at the determined faces of the three denizens. "Did Marcellus mean..." She paused to gather herself so she could ask the question without breaking. "Did he mean what he said, about killing him?"

Daniel looked at Summer and Ethan again before he answered, "Yes, so we don't have much time. We will do everything possible to safeguard his life. I give you my word." He held out his hand toward Ethan. "Ethan, your phone, please."

Ethan handed the phone over and Daniel left the room. Summer broke the silence that followed his departure. "You have my word as well."

Eames studied her. "You still have a connection of some kind to him?"

"I do. That is why Daniel and I were already on our way back when Ethan called. I didn't know what was wrong, but I knew something was." She rose from her chair. "I should check on him."

Ethan pushed his chair back, releasing Eames' hand, and they both followed Summer into the living room. Eames crossed to the couch and knelt by Goren's head. Though sedated, he remained fitful. She smoothed back his hair and he settled a little. He was still in there, fighting against Marcellus. She pressed her lips to his temple, but pulled back with a frown. "He's running a fever," she told Summer.

Summer touched his brow to gauge the extent of the fever. Concern filled her face. "His immune system responds as it would to a virus. It will not be enough to affect Marcellus but it will weaken Robert. We definitely don't have much time."

Turning her attention back to Goren, Eames watched his face. He was not resting. The lines of his face reflected pain and tension. When she caressed his face, he relaxed, but it didn't last. "Where is he?" she asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Summer touched her shoulder. "Come back to the kitchen," she said softly.

Reluctantly, Eames followed her and Ethan back to the kitchen. Summer cautioned, "We should not say anything near him that we do not want Marcellus to overhear. His body is sedated, but that is only a frustration for Marcellus. He can hear us."

"Okay, then, we're out of earshot. Where is Bobby?"

"He's in there. He's aware, though he may not understand what is happening to him. Marcellus is extremely powerful. I am surprised that Robert has been able to hold out for so long, but he has a lot to fight for...and he has you to help him fight. He has a good chance."

Ethan nodded in agreement. "Summer and Daniel will need you in order to save him. You are the trump card, darling."

"Do you really think we can save him?"

He squeezed her arm. "I'm absolutely convinced of it."

Eames closed her eyes and hoped he was right. She didn't care what it took to save him, she would do it.


	26. At What Cost

**A/N: My apologies for the delay in updating. I have not forgotten nor have I neglected this story. I just painted myself into a corner with the Marcellus situation, and I had to wait for a solution to come to me. Finally it has-enjoy! Oh, and, as with a couple of earlier chapters, this one, too, has mention of blood.**  


* * *

Daniel remained in Goren's bedroom, on the phone, for the better part of two hours. Eames returned to the living room, sitting on the floor near Goren. She rested her head near his and laid her hand on his arm. Summer and Ethan conversed quietly in the kitchen, then came out and sat with her, Ethan in the recliner and Summer on the edge of the coffee table beside her. Jeremy and Gerard remained in the background, there but not there, until they were needed. Eames had no trouble forgetting they were in the room.

Goren was beginning to stir when Daniel came out of the bedroom. "Ethan, a moment."

Ethan rose and joined him in the kitchen. Their voices were subdued, but the women could hear them moving about. "Jeremy," Ethan called.

Like a shadow, Jeremy crossed the room into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Daniel came out into the living room. He studied Goren for a moment. "Allow him to waken. Gerald, attend. Jeremy is preparing lunch."

"Lunch?" Eames said, looking at him in disbelief. "How can you think of eating?"

"We all must eat, my dear, if we are to face the task at hand."

From the couch came that voice that was Goren's and yet wasn't. "What task might that be, Daniel?"

Daniel smiled. "Living, Marcellus. Without nourishment, we cannot survive, and that goes especially for the body you have inhabited. The past week has been a huge strain on his system, and he has to eat or his body will give out. Then where will you be? The man is not denizen. He is mortal."

Marcellus frowned. "Impossible. How could I take over his body if he were not denizen?"

"How could you do it if he were?" Eames snapped.

Marcellus gave her an uninterested, patronizing look. "This one is mortal as well?"

"She is," Daniel answered.

Summer answered Eames' question. "Newly converted denizens are vulnerable. That was what enabled Marcellus to enter Robert's body. He mistakingly thought that Robert was a newly converted denizen."

"If he is not denizen," Marcellus demanded. "Then what manner of creature is he?"

"He's a man!" Eames growled. "Not a creature."

Ignoring her, Marcellus continued to glare at Daniel, who answered, "He has been partially converted for reasons that are not your concern. He was in the process of reverting to his mortal state when you came upon him."

Marcellus shook his head. "He feels denizen."

"A temporary state, I assure you, old friend. You blundered this time."

"Impossible!"

Marcellus lurched off the couch. Gerard and Daniel dove at him, tackling him to the floor, where they pinned him. Eames took a step toward them, but stopped when Summer touched her arm. "Ethan!" Daniel called.

Ethan came into the room with a bowl half-filled with a warm, dark-brown liquid. Summer watched with interest as Eames did so with fear for the man she loved. Summer drew Eames closer to her and draped a protective arm around her shoulder, speaking softly into her ear. "Trust them."

As hard as she found that to do, Eames knew she had no choice. She remained beside Summer, watching the men struggle with Marcellus in Goren's body. _Please, don't hurt him_, she thought.

Marcellus glared up at Daniel, who met the green-gold of his eyes without fear. _Marcellus' eyes,_ he mused. Even for a denizen, Marcellus had unusual eyes, and Daniel recognized them. Searching those eyes, he saw nothing of Goren in them. He tightened his grip on the man's body, leaning more heavily against his chest without looking away. _There_, he thought with relief. A flash of dark flickered across the golden-green field, brief but undeniable. But they were almost too late.

Under the guise of another struggle, the men changed positions. Daniel knelt across Marcellus' thighs, pinning his hips, as Gerard held him from behind, arms pinned, in a sitting position. Ethan forced the dark liquid down his throat with difficulty. But once he knew Marcellus had swallowed enough, he set the bowl aside and helped hold the man down.

Summer kept her arm around Eames, who was distraught. Leaning closer, Summer repeated, "Trust them."

Marcellus continued to struggle against the three denizens, but gradually, his struggling became weaker until he collapsed against Gerard, eyes closed. They did not release him. When Marcellus suddenly lurched against them, they still held him down. Then, he looked at Eames, his eyes once more dark. Summer's arm tightened around her and she remained beside the healer. Dark eyes once more became yellow-green and he struggled again. "Release me, Daniel!"

Daniel smiled serenely at him. "How many denizens met their fate at your hand, Marcellus? How many of them died horribly? There is a special place for you in hell, old friend."

He made the word friend sound like a disease, which, in Marcellus' case, it was. Befriending Marcellus, in many instances, had been lethal, for human and denizen alike. "I do not fear you, Daniel," he sneered.

"Nor I you, Marcellus."

"Then release me."

Another smile and Daniel shook his head. "I have other lives to protect from you."

Marcellus sneered. "Mortals? You wouldn't give a mortal the time of day when I knew you."

"Times change, and with it, so must we. There are deserving mortals. The one you inhabit is one of them."

Sweat began to bead on Marcellus' forehead. "What did you give me, Daniel?"

"Just some tea to relax the body you're in."

He blinked hard at Daniel as the sweat rolled down the side of his face and into his eyes. The flush of fever left his face and he looked pale. Gradually, he began to tremble.

Eames looked at Summer, who appeared perfectly calm. Again, Summer tightened her arm around Eames' shoulders, an act of reassurance. Eames didn't know what to do. She didn't trust the denizens the way Goren did, but she didn't completely mistrust them either. She had seen and heard enough to know there were things in the world beyond both her experience and her understanding, things that Goren accepted with more grace than she did. She didn't like the explanation for his behavior the past week, but there was a certain reassurance that it was beyond his control.

Daniel motioned to Summer, who led Eames forward until they were both in Marcellus' line of vision. Still struggling against the hands that held him down, he looked at the two women. His mouth turned up into a sneer as he looked at Summer. "Do you remember anything of the time we spent together, Summer?"

"Do you remember Andrew, Marcellus? Or Edward? Or Victoria?"

The sneer became a smile. "I do. I also remember the power and the joy I felt upon the demise of each one. I could have taken you as well had you not allied yourself so closely with Daniel, and then Ethan with you. That was a great disappointment, my dear."

The yellow-green eyes were becoming unfocused and he was starting to slur his words, but he did not seem to notice. The others, however, did. Marcellus turned his attention to Eames, studying her intently. "Mortal woman," he said, trying to make the words sound distasteful but not succeeding. "Who else has taken you to his bed? Ethan? Daniel?"

He laughed, and Eames felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. When she did not answer him, Summer nodded her approval and lightly squeezed Eames' arm. With a sound of disdain, Marcellus turned his attention back to Daniel. He was now clearly feeling the effects of the brew Ethan had forced him to drink. "What trick do you have up your sleeve, Daniel, my old friend?"

"Trick? No tricks."

Marcellus doubled over suddenly, gripping his stomach as pain shot through it. "What did you do? Daniel!"

The three denizens held him as his muscles began to spasm, then his back arched and he went limp. The denizens looked around the room, sensing rather than seeing or hearing something around them. A sudden whirling rush of air was accompanied by a loud noise, like a thunderclap, forcing everyone in the room to cover their ears. Then everything became still and silent.

Daniel was the first to move. He hurried to Goren's body and felt for life. Looking at Summer, he said, "He lives, but barely. The strain of fighting Marcellus added to what we just put him through may have been too much for him."

Summer shook her head. "I will not give him up, not to the likes of Marcellus."

"Marcellus is gone, for good, if this man was as brave as Ethan assured me he was."

"_Is_, Daniel," Ethan corrected. "He _is _a brave man. Gerard, assist. Summer, we shall take him into the bedroom."

"I will be right there," she promised. Looking at Daniel, she said, "Do not underestimate him. I still feel strength in him."

"What will you do?"

"Whatever I must to save him."

As she started past him, Daniel grabbed her arm. "We used the transformation, Summer. It was the only way."

Eames saw the look of alarm cross Summer's face. "Daniel..."

"I know. But there was no other way."

Yanking her arm from his grasp, she hurried into the kitchen. Eames followed her, watching as she quickly gathered the herbs the men had scattered about. "What did they do to him?" she asked, struggling not to sound confrontational.

Summer took the time to look up at her. "They made him fully mortal again. It was a very dangerous thing to do, and if Robert is going to survive, I must tend to him immediately."

"But..."

"Come with me."

Confused and worried, Eames followed her to the bedroom. Ethan and Gerard backed away from the bed. "Foolish, Ethan," Summer snapped.

"We had no choice, my love. We had to stop Marcellus."

"At what cost?"

"That will depend on you."

She shot a glare in his direction, then returned to arranging her herbs as she needed them. "Hot water, Ethan," she snapped.

Ethan did not hesitate to hurry from the room. Eames knelt near Summer. "There was a concoction you could have given him to make him fully human again?"

Summer began carefully choosing herbs and measuring them into a bowl. "Yes and no. Yes, such a 'concoction' exists, however, its use is not recommended, particularly after he'd already been through such a rough time. The sudden transition is extremely hard on the body, and the results are often lethal. Its use is reserved only for extreme circumstances, such as this one."

"But you don't seem to agree with what they did."

Ethan returned with the hot water, and Summer poured some into the bowl. "The part of me that cares about Robert disagrees. The practical part of me understands it was necessary. I am still struggling to find a balance between the part of me that is so familiar and the part I am becoming reacquainted with."

She drew a knife across her inner arm, and Eames flinched and looked away. Summer smiled affectionately before watching her blood drip into the bowl. When she had what she needed, she licked her arm to stop the flow and mixed the brew. Looking at Ethan, she said, "I hope he can drink this."

"All we can do is try," he answered.

Eames stood with Summer and asked, "Do you have to convert him back into a partial denizen?"

Summer looked at Ethan before she answered, "I do not know."

"Daniel is discussing the situation with those who advised him on how to destroy Marcellus," Ethan added. "If there is any other way to help him, we will do it."

Summer paused, then turned to Alex. "Are you willing to help?"

"Of course," she answered without hesitation.

"Allow me to add your blood to mine in this bowl. He draws strength from you."

Although the thought made her somewhat nauseous, Eames held out her arm without hesitation. Summer retrieved her blade and made a cut in Eames' arm, similar to the one in her own. Eames looked away as Summer watched the blood drip into the bowl. When enough had been added, she ran her tongue over the cut, stopping the blood from flowing. Eames felt a rush at the touch of Summer's tongue, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and she was left simply wanting Goren.

Ethan touched Eames' arm. "Talk to him. See if you can rouse him at all."

Eames sat on the edge of the bed. "Bobby," she said, stroking the side of his face. "Come back to me, baby."

Leaning down, she softly kissed him. He responded, though weakly and he didn't waken. When she withdrew, he made a soft noise of protest. Summer smiled approvingly as Eames moved out of the way. Ethan gently raised Goren's head and shoulders from the bed as Summer sat where Eames had been. "Robert," she said softly. "Drink."

She touched his lips with the bowl, slowly tipping it until the liquid touched his lips. When he began to drink, she continued to encourage him until the bowl was empty. "Very good," she said softly as Ethan eased him back onto the pillows. She looked at Eames. "He was not so far gone that he could not respond to you. That is a good sign. Stay here with him. Your presence will settle him and he will rest easier. Just call if anything happens that concerns you."

Eames found that she could no longer dislike Summer. She nodded. "Thank you, Summer."

Summer gathered her herbs and supplies together, then she gave Eames another smile and left the room. Ethan touched Eames' arm. "She feels better about his chances, and so do I. Don't despair."

He left the room as well. Eames stepped out of her shoes and changed into a pair of sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt. She crawled into bed beside Goren and snuggled into his side. He rested his head against hers and softly sighed.

For the first time, Eames had no doubts about Ethan and Summer, believing they really wanted what was best for her partner. Once again, his path to survival lay through them.


	27. To Be or Not To Be Denizen

Goren's apartment wasn't quite big enough to comfortably accommodate the denizens and the two humans, so under cover of darkness, both Goren and Eames were moved to Ethan's mansion. Goren remained deeply unconscious most of the time. With effort and with help from Eames, Summer was able to coax him into taking her herbal brew twice a day. Eames left his side only to join Ethan in the kitchen for meals. While she was gone, Summer remained in the room with Goren, and Eames trusted her, which was a huge step in her relationship with the healer.

Two days after the move, Summer pulled up a chair beside Eames at Goren's bedside. "He is healing, but it will take time for him to fully recover, even at an accelerated rate. Marcellus drove him hard by not allowing him to rest or eat properly, weakening him in hopes of destroying him. The transformation he was forced to undergo was extremely hard on his body. It nearly killed him. He survived when most mortals would not."

"So you were ready to sacrifice him to get rid of Marcellus?" Eames demanded, her anger beginning to rise as her protective instincts toward her partner surfaced.

Summer sensed the anger and she did not disagree with it. She had reacted the same way when she was told what they had done. "Me? Of course not. But Daniel...Daniel had to consider the greater good. He dismissed every one of Ethan's arguments. Marcellus had to be eliminated. What it boiled down to for Ethan was: it was the only way to save Robert's life. There is no doubt: Marcellus would have destroyed him. Ethan took a gamble that I could pull him through and that Robert was enough of a fighter to survive what they had to put him through." She looked at Goren, an expression of deep affection and concern on her face. "I did what I had to do. It was the only way."

Eames felt her heart lurch and tumble in her chest. "What are you saying, Summer?"

"I am saying the only way I could save him was to get him back to where he was before and then bring him further along, as close as I possibly could without converting him. Unfortunately, it is not, as you would say, an exact science. It is more like hitting a moving target."

Eames felt her head begin to spin and her anger boiled toward rage. "So...after all this, he might be one of you anyway?"

"The point of no return is different for each person in each situation. While I have an intuitive sense of where it is, I cannot specifically pin it down. With the return of my emotional sensitivities, my awareness is clouded, particularly around him."

"Why is that?"

Summer sensed the rising jealousy in Eames. She searched for words that would not inflame that emotion. "He is the one who...reawakened my emotions, detective. They are particularly strong around him. I can sense and identify emotions in others, but in him...I can _feel_ what he feels. I am not yet able to insulate myself from the feelings of others as I was once able to do. In time, I will recover that ability, but I may never be able to do that with him."

Eames didn't know what to think about that. "So...what is he feeling?"

"At the moment, very little. Healing takes all his energy." She studied Eames, aware of her emotional struggle. "Once he wakens, I should be able to tell if I had to pass the point of no return with him. Trust me, I took him only as far as I needed to go for his survival. Marcellus sent him to the brink of death. To save his life, I had to skirt the edge of conversion, closer than I have ever taken anyone without actually doing it. He is a real fighter, and that is why he survived as long as he did, but had I not intervened, you would be burying him."

Eames was trying to negotiate a storm of emotion, ultimately unable to reconcile her feelings about what Summer had done. At the moment, though, she had one overwhelming concern. "Will he recover?"

Once she weathered the strong emotions that came off Eames in waves, Summer nodded. "I am certain he will. He is very resilient, especially for a mortal. He needs rest more than anything else right now, and he will not waken until he has gotten all he needs."

Eames watched her partner sleep for a moment before she spoke again. "And when he opens his eyes, Summer—what color will they be?"

"They will be no different than before. Right now, I cannot tell where he lies on the human-denizen spectrum. We would welcome him as a denizen, but it has been his wish to remain human and I did my best to honor that. If I have gone against his wishes, it has been only to save his life. I believe he has passed a critical juncture and I will not give him more blood unless he needs it, but I do not believe he will."

Eames touched Goren, lightly stroking his forehead. She looked at Summer. "Just save his life," she said softly, deciding that, human or denizen, she did not want to lose him.

Summer watched his face relax. As deeply unconscious as he was, he was aware of them in the room with him and she was reassured by that. "Only Daniel has any experience with the transition we forced him through, and he returned to the Council yesterday. If Robert remained in danger of losing his life, Daniel would never have left. I am confident he will recover."

Reassured, Eames sat on the bed beside him, focusing on him as she caressed his face. Leaning down, she softly kissed him. He responded to her, stirring closer to consciousness, but he did not waken. With a sigh, she pressed her forehead against his and whispered, "Come on, baby. Wake up." She brushed her lips over his cheek. "I miss you."

His eyes remained closed and he slept on.

* * *

A week passed with no visible improvement in Goren's condition. Summer continued to reassure Eames, insisting he was improving. She was beginning to feel more emotion from him, which told her he was recovering, but Eames remained skeptical, as was her nature. Until she saw his eyes-brown or gold-watching her, she would continue to entertain doubts.

Eames' sleep was restless, and she turned over to snuggle closer to Goren. He rolled onto his side, nuzzling the side of her head. Tipping her face toward his, she softly sighed in her sleep...until his lips grazed hers, then returned for a deeper kiss.

Stretching her body along his, she gave herself to his kiss. She slowly drifted toward awareness as she often did when he gently woke her with soft kisses or caresses. Withdrawing suddenly, she opened her eyes. "Bobby?"

"Hmmn?" he murmured, placing his hand above her hip to draw her against him.

"Bobby...you're awake..."

"Uh-huh," he agreed, searching for her mouth again.

She pulled back, twisting to turn on the light. He squinted against the light, but she had to see his face. "How do you feel?"

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. "I feel, uh, hungry," he answered, pulling her back to him for another kiss.

She pressed her hands against his chest, pulling back from his kiss. "Hold onto that thought," she whispered against his mouth. "I have to get Summer."

"Now?" he asked as she sat up on the edge of the bed. As much as he liked Summer, it was Eames he wanted and he really didn't want to wait.

She paused and twisted her upper body to look at him. "Do you remember anything?"

He cocked his head to one side and she had a hard time restraining herself. "Like what?"

"Look around, Bobby. Where are we?"

He drew his eyes from her and scanned the room. His brow furrowed as he realized they were back at Ethan's home. Closing his eyes, he searched internally for pain or anything else wrong with his body, but he found nothing terribly amiss. He opened his eyes to look at Eames. "Why are we back here?"

She studied his face. His eyes were now the same golden color they had been when he woke after being shot in Ethan's office. She swallowed, wondering if they had simply lost progress toward his return to being fully mortal or if he would never be mortal again. Then she recalled the golden-green of Marcellus' eyes, which reminded her that the entity from the time of Caesar had nearly taken him from her forever. She lunged forward into his arms and held him tightly.

"Alex?" he murmured into her ear, surprised by her sudden desperate embrace.

She held him tighter, uncomfortable with the sharp intensity of the raw emotion that swamped her. He pulled back slightly, and she didn't want to let him go, not even for a moment. Not yet. Goren became concerned. It wasn't like her to be clingy, ever. He turned his face toward her head, but the warm, herbal scent infused in her hair distracted him. He nuzzled her ear and whispered her name. Nearly frantic, she caught his mouth in a deep kiss, breaking it only to come up for air. "Alex?" he repeated, concerned about the desperation in her actions.

She kissed him again before pushing against his shoulders to force him back into the pillows. She stretched out beside him and rested her head on his chest, listening to the muffled beat of his heart through his chest wall. "What is the last thing you remember?" she asked.

"You," he answered, his voice mildly hoarse. "I remember loving you on the floor in my room. I'm not sure just why we were on the floor, but I have no complaints."

The last time he'd been able to overcome Marcellus he hadn't taken the time to drag her to the bed, opting to use every brief moment of freedom from Marcellus' influence to show her that he loved her, before it was too late.

"And before that?"

He shrugged. "Nothing specific, really. Ethan and Summer showed up when I got myself stabbed."

"That's it?"

"Should I remember something else?"

"Oh, Bobby..." She draped her arm over his belly in another tight hug.

He took a moment to focus, reminding himself that the only reason for them to be guests in Ethan's home again was if something denizen-related had happened, something bad. "Alex, what's going on?"

Slowly, she pulled away from him and sat up. "You should eat something," she said, trying to distract him. "And Summer will want to see you. I'll be right back."

He watched her hurry out the door. Turning his attention inward, he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and gauged how he felt. Tired, a bit sore, maybe, definitely hungry-for food and for Eames. As he moved, he noticed an achy feeling deep in his muscles. He turned off the bedside light and sighed as the dull ache behind his eyes eased. He turned to look at the clock across the room, able to read it easily in the darkness of the room. 2:43. The middle of the night or the middle of the afternoon? Something told him it was the middle of the night, and he felt badly for waking Eames. He knew how much she enjoyed snuggling into a warm bed at night and staying there.

Closing his eyes, recalling her response to him, he didn't feel quite so badly any more, and he _really_ wanted her. Yet, on the heels of his desire for her, came a nagging curiosity. Something had apparently happened to him, but he had no clue what it was. If Summer was involved and she needed to see him, it had to be serious. He actively searched his memory again for any clue to what landed him back at Ethan's, but nothing was there.

He looked up when the bedroom door opened. Eames stepped back into the room and he felt a powerful surge of renewed desire. Summer came into the room behind her, but his desire didn't fade as it should have in the presence of another. Eames advanced to the bed, sitting beside him as Summer approached, studying him with a knowing eye. He met her gaze and held it.

Summer needed to expend no effort to feel what he was feeling. She stopped before reaching him, her expression guarded. She felt his confusion, but even more strongly, she felt his desire, and she was deeply conflicted. She knew he did not want to be converted, though the only reason he felt that way was because of his lover. He did not want to leave her behind, so he chose to remain mortal with her. Were it not for Eames' reticence, Summer knew that he would be open to the change, and it would be good for him. But love made his decision for him, and Summer would not deliberately go against his wishes.

The conflict within her arose from her own observations, which told her it might be too late. The strongest indication that he might be denizen was the strength of the desire he felt. Newly turned denizens were stricken by powerful, overwhelming, insatiable desire, which was something she did not think Eames would find troublesome but for the fact that that desire could be difficult to keep in check. "Jeremy is fixing you something to eat."

"Something happened," he stated, his expression open and curious as he waited for her to explain.

"You do not remember," she said, not posing it as a question nor acting surprised he did not remember.

He shook his head. "I remember that you showed up at my place when I got stabbed."

"Nothing after that?"

He shook his head slowly. "Not really. The only thing I really remember is...uh, is Alex."

"You remember making love to her."

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, I do."

"Do you trust me, Robert?"

"You know I do."

"Let it go. Don't try to remember the past ten days. Just move on."

"Ten days," he repeated back, and Summer knew he would have a hard time moving on without knowing what had happened to him. "How did I lose ten days?"

She watched him carefully as he looked at Eames. With a sigh, Summer moved a chair closer to them and explained, "A denizen we thought long gone returned and tried to claim your body as his own. In doing so, he would have destroyed you." She smiled affectionately. "You fought him, which gave us the opportunity to find a way to destroy him once and for all. You never cease to amaze us."

"Why don't I remember?"

"Because Marcellus planned to continue to live in your body once he destroyed you. He was extremely powerful when he lived, which is why he was able to take over your body. By all indications, you were a newly-turned denizen, which made you vulnerable to him. He suppressed all that makes you who you are, intending to take full possession of your body, permanently."

Eames wasn't surprised that he found that situation interesting rather than creepy. "He's gone now?"

Summer nodded. "Yes. Not just gone, but destroyed. Marcellus did not realize you were only part denizen. Had you been entirely mortal, he would never have taken possession of you. That opportunity would not have been available to him."

"So...I was possessed? By a demon?"

"Marcellus was as close to a demon as I have ever known. Through his entire existence he was the embodiment of evil. His conversion was an unfortunate accident that we have paid for time and again with denizen lives as well as mortal ones."

Goren's eyes were bright with interest. "You thought he was dead once before."

Summer smiled at his intuitive intelligence. "Yes. Obviously we were wrong. Marcellus was much more powerful than we realized and he continued to exist as an entity without substance. Fate brought him to you when you were vulnerable to him."

Eames made a noise that drew their attention to her. "This sounds like something out of _Star_ _Trek_," she commented.

Goren smiled that amused little grin he always had for her snarky cynicism, only this time, he leaned in to place a soft kiss in front of her ear. Only his intense interest in what Summer was telling him kept him from turning that kiss into more. He shifted his attention back to Summer. "Are you sure he's gone now?"

"Yes. What we did was extremely risky, but it was the only way we could destroy him for good. In assuming you were newly-converted, Marcellus made a fatal error when he chose you for his next victim. He was trapped within you, and when Daniel forced the transformation, Marcellus could not survive. To save your life, I had to bring you as close to conversion as I possibly could without crossing the line."

"How accurate is your estimation?"

She paused long enough to be meaningful. "I don't know."

Eames said, "You told me you would know once he woke up."

"I thought I would be able to tell, but my empathy interferes with my ability to read him."

Goren cocked his head to the side. "How so?"

"I would rather not discuss that."

He focused on her, and she knew he was trying to read her. Eames leaned toward her. "Is there any other way you can tell?"

Summer was reluctant to answer. "We will know in time, detective. That is my suggestion—wait."

"There's nothing you can do?"

Summer drew in a deep breath and looked at Goren, a fleeting expression of desire and regret flitting across her face. "I could take blood; then I would know. But...that could get out of control, considering."

Goren looked at Eames, then back at Summer. "Considering?"

"Considering the intensity of your passion and my own...vulnerability, which I have yet to bring under control."

He frowned. "What about my own control?"

Her mouth quirked into a smile. "Your self-control dwindles in the wake of your desire, darling."

Eames tensed. Summer had never before used a term of endearment when addressing him. Unlike Ethan, she had always been emotionally stoic, that is, until Goren had awakened the long-dormant passion that had simmered deep in her soul. Summer now struggled to bring herself and her newly recovered empathy and emotions into their proper place within her. Being with Goren made that a more difficult task for her given the emotional attachment to him she had unwittingly formed.

A knock at the door disrupted the tension that had formed in the room. Jeremy entered, carrying a plate. "I am told you are hungry," he said brightly.

It was impossible not to like Jeremy. He handed Goren the plate. "I prepared grilled chicken, salad greens tossed with vinaigrette, and herbed potatoes." He smiled at Eames. "And there is enough to share, if you wish."

He exited the room as Goren began to eat, sharing the plate with Eames. Summer refused his offer to join in the meal. Instead, she sat in a chair on the other side of the room, watching Goren and Eames interact. Well-tuned to his emotions, she had no trouble reading him, but with his attention diverted, she wasn't so heavily inundated by him. When she turned her attention to Eames, she found emotions that were much more rigidly controlled. That explained why she was never overwhelmed by Eames, why she didn't have to guard herself the way she did with Goren. He felt emotion on a much larger scale and try as he might to maintain his control, he could only bury his emotions so deep before they boiled over to simmer just below the surface, occasionally erupting in a storm he had difficulty controlling.

By the time the plate was empty, Summer was once against deluged by the power of Goren's desire for Eames, which was what he felt most strongly. The intensity of that desire concerned her. He _felt_ like a denizen.

Goren shoved the plate aside and turned toward Eames. She smiled at him, a smile that sank into him like Summer's fangs did. Eames reached out, caressing his jawline with her fingertips. Slowly, she moved her hand along his jaw to his ear. He closed his eyes, focusing on the trail of fire her fingers left along his skin. She stroked his ear and he groaned softly. She drew slow circles around his ear, dipping into the hollow behind his earlobe. His breathing grew uneven until she slid her fingers under his chin and down along his throat. Before they'd met Ethan and Summer, Eames had discovered that his throat was one of his erogenous zones. His experiences with Summer had intensified that for him a hundredfold.

As soon as her fingers skimmed over his throat, he became consumed by a fire he couldn't control. Grabbing her waist, he pulled her to him, kissing and nipping his way from her mouth to her ear as he tugged at her shirt. Summer moved from her seat, her knees weak as she slipped out the door. By the time she pulled it closed, Eames' shirt was on the floor and Goren was working her pants down over her hips.

Summer walked slowly down the hall, lost inside herself. Goren seemed to have recovered physically from his ordeal with Marcellus, but she wondered if there was any lingering damage. If he was denizen, there would not be. But if he remained partially converted, there could be.

She struggled with herself, no longer used to managing her emotions or her empathy. She hated the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy which she fought to dispel. Her empathic abilities also caused her distress and she was still overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotion she'd gotten from Goren. She needed Ethan, and she found him alone in the parlor. Approaching him, she grabbed his shirt and assaulted his mouth with hers. He made a noise of pleasant surprise into her mouth but offered no resistance when she muscled him onto the couch. Without question, he met her needs and fulfilled his own.


	28. Mortal or Denizen?

In the parlor, Summer stopped in the middle of buttoning her shirt and looked up toward the ceiling. Occupied with Ethan, she'd been able to focus her emotional radar on him and what passed between them. Her inability to manage her own emotional control deeply frustrated her and when she automatically tuned back in to Goren's emotions, her frustration deepened. As a denizen, she had always prided herself on her strict control of all aspects of her life. The sudden and complete return of her emotions and her empathy had steamrolled her, leaving her floundering and uncertain. She had no doubt her ability to regain her control would come in time, but the interim would be endlessly frustrating for her. More troubling than her inability to maintain her control was the fact that her connection to Goren existed over a distance that both surprised and troubled her; she had never known anything like it. She had gone to see Daniel, to seek his input, and even there, a thousand miles away, she had felt him. It was maddening, and not even Daniel and the members of the council could explain it.

Ethan stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him, resting her hands over his, and she closed her eyes, relaxing. In all things, Ethan was her only constant. Daniel had converted her and would thus always be special to her, but Ethan had become more. She'd been drawn to him from the moment they met, and the attraction seemed to be mutual. With her conversion, Summer lost the ability to feel love, but over the past two centuries, she had grown close to him, and only him. If she had felt love, or something akin to it, for anyone, it was for Ethan. Since her emotions had returned, she was uncertain of many things, but her love for Ethan was a rare and reciprocal certainty.

He kissed the side of her neck. Tipping her head to the side, she groaned and her fangs slipped out. She was vulnerable when she was with Ethan, just as she felt vulnerable with Goren, which annoyed and confused her. She was used to feeling that way with Ethan, but Goren was a mortal, and as much as she liked him, she did not like what he continued to stir in her. He was bonded to another, so what was this connection he had with her? It should not exist, but it did. Strongly. And he felt it as well. It made no sense to her or to any denizen she consulted about it. Her relationship with Goren was in all ways unique.

Ethan sensed her distraction. "What is wrong, my love?"

She turned to face him, and he allowed her to move from his arms. "It's nothing, Ethan," she insisted as she smoothed the front of her shirt.

Ethan smiled. "If it was nothing, we would be doing, not talking."

She laughed softly. "True."

"What troubles you?"

She turned away from him and cast her gaze toward the ceiling. "He does. I cannot shield myself from him, Ethan. With others, I can open and close my empathic connection, but I cannot do that with him...unless I am completely preoccupied."

"I will preoccupy you," he offered.

She smiled again. "You do preoccupy me, dearest. But I cannot spend all my time with you, and I have not yet found a way to shield myself from him."

"What does Daniel say?"

"He does not know what to say about it. No one on the council does. They are taking it under advisement and Daniel will contact me when they reach a conclusion. None of them have seen this before."

Ethan sat on the sofa, thoughtful. "Have you thought that perhaps he is meant to be denizen?"

"I have thought that almost from the start. He would thrive as one of us. You know that."

"I do. He has no idea what he is giving up."

"He's afraid that in losing his mortality, he will lose her as well. He is not willing to risk that."

"His fears are well founded, if she remains mortal."

She nodded. "Exactly. If she refuses to convert with him, she will continue to age while he will not. Even if she stays with him through the end of her days, eventually, her days will end and he _will_ lose her. Still, I wonder if she would be able to adapt to the changes in him if he converted. She has not handled his partial conversion well. So perhaps he is right in choosing to remain mortal, if he wants her to stay."

"What do you think about it?"

Summer sat in a nearby chair. "I have difficulty reading her when he is nearby. He is very intense and she is very guarded. But she is afraid of what he might become. Cultural stigmas abound in her mind, and, unlike him, she cannot easily get past them to see what we truly are. He is extremely open-minded; she is not."

Rising from the couch, Ethan straightened his tie. "I should return to the club. It's an hour until closing. Accompany me?"

"You know how much I hate that damned place."

"Yes, but the distractions there will help cloud your connection to him, at least for awhile, will they not?"

He had a point. "It's worth a try," she said as she got up and stepped into her shoes.

Reaching toward him, she slipped her hand into his and they left for the club.

* * *

It was dawn, or close to it, his enhanced circadian sense told him. Goren woke in a state, driven by dreams over which he had no control. He lay on the bed beside Eames, struggling to calm his raging emotions. He'd never lost control of himself so easily with so little provocation, and it troubled him. His thoughts shifted to Summer and he wondered if she would be able to help him. Perhaps her empathy taught her control. In her sleep, Eames stroked his chest lightly with her fingertips and he shuddered. When he caressed her back and she made soft noises in her throat that drove a white-hot spear of desire directly into the center of his being, he responded to her. He kissed and caressed her, gently waking her, though he had difficulty maintaining his control. Fired up and ready for him, she slid on top of him and began rocking against him as she kissed him. "Oh, god," he murmured against her mouth. "More."

With a soft laugh, she gladly complied with his request. He'd just reached his climax and brought her to hers when a quiet knock competed with their heavy breathing. Eames rolled off him as the door opened, grabbing his shirt and pulling it around her body. Summer smiled at her. "There is no need to be embarrassed."

Turning toward her, Eames challenged her. "Summer, we're tired of playing games with you."

Summer studied her, sensing worry, fear and apprehension from her. She was desperate to know if her lover had been converted to save his life. "If I take blood, I can tell you if he is still mortal," she assured her.

"Is there any way you can tell his condition without taking blood?"

Summer sighed deeply and looked at Goren, struggling as always to cope with the intensity of his emotions. "Not with certainty, no, though there are...indications."

"Like what?"

The denizen healer smiled at them, but addressed Goren. "You were put through a difficult ordeal, but you have already healed, so you still heal as quickly and completely as we do."

She reached out and touched Eames' chin, tipping her head so she could see her throat. "But no bite marks."

Goren sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Summer watched him but he would not look at her. She sensed distress most strongly from him. "Robert," she said. "What is wrong?"

He shook his head but would not look at either woman. "Nothing."

Both women knew better, but it was Summer who needed to address his concern. She looked at Eames. "You remember the way to the kitchen?" Eames nodded. "Could you get him a glass of water?"

Eames hesitated for a moment, watching Goren, who still concentrated on the floor. Finally, she nodded, gave him a gentle kiss, pulled his shirt tight around her and left the room. Summer turned toward Goren. "What is it?"

"I didn't bite her," he answered miserably. "But...I, uh, I _wanted_ to."

Summer opened her mouth and allowed her fangs to slip out. "Show me," she said softly.

He shook his head. "I don't think I have them yet."

"Perhaps not. Perhaps never...if you have not passed the point of no return."

"I want to know."

She studied his face. "Do you feel a...a hunger? Something like desire, but not."

He looked up at her, confused and embarrassed. "I..." He looked away again, brow furrowed. "Desire, but not desire?"

"No, darling. Hunger...for something you cannot quite identify."

He shook his head. "I don't know what you mean."

"Then it's not likely you sense it. If you had passed the point of no return, you would be desperate to complete the conversion."

"Always?"

She nodded. "Always."

"But suppose...suppose you did complete it? Then I wouldn't, uh, feel that, would I? I mean, maybe I already did feel it and passed it off as, uh, desire."

Summer hesitated. He was right. "There is only one way I can know for certain, if you are that impatient to know the truth, but I will need to take blood. You know what that is like, and I cannot guarantee my control at the moment. Can you guarantee yours?"

"I don't know, but...I'm willing to risk it."

"Are you certain?"

He studied her face and she felt his reaction. He was attracted to her, but she did not know what drove his attraction. There was no doubt in her mind that he adored his lover and had no wish to hurt her. His attraction did not translate to love in his mind, only desire, something with which he was very familiar. But could he control it now?

He made a gesture toward his throat. "Just make sure you leave me some," he replied.

Smiling fondly, she moved closer. "Understand—if you have been converted, I only did what I had to do in order to save your life."

"I understand. That's not a problem for me."

She loved how accepting he was of his fate. At her gesture, he stretched out on the bed and she bent over him, gently nuzzling his throat and preparing his skin with her tongue. Eyes closed, he made soft noises in the back of his throat. Summer tried to shield herself from his emotions, but she found that impossible to do, especially when in physical contact with him. Attempting to prepare herself, she sank her teeth into soft, warm flesh and took what he so willingly offered.

Fully overwhelmed, Summer got lost in the emotion he generated. She took what she needed and began to take more, feeling a desperate need to keep going as he responded to her, physically and emotionally. One hand grabbed her side as the other slid up her back, pulling her closer and urging her on, despite the resistance she weakly tried to offer. She wanted nothing more than to take him completely, secure in the knowledge he would not refuse her. Her body thrummed with desire, generated from him as well as from deep within herself. Every part of her wanted to meld with him, to complete what she had started and claim him as her own...but...he was not hers to claim. With a strength of will she did not think she had, she fought to separate from him, finally succeeding as she tried to erect a barrier to isolate herself from his intensity. She was marginally successful, but it was enough. Her fangs slowly retracted and she tenderly grazed her tongue over the bite until the bleeding stopped. Pulling away from him, she met his gold eyes and held his gaze. The fire she saw in the golden depths heated her to the core, stoking a desperate need in her that she itched to fulfill. She had not felt such powerful desire in decades, not for anyone but Ethan, and _never_ for a mortal. Never. Most of what he felt was reserved for Eames, but some of it, she realized with surprise, was meant for her. She moved away from him, toward the door, stopping to look back at the bed. Her body still ached with desire for him, even though the flimsy barrier she managed to erect was still in place. It was a start. "You are still mortal," she said, unable to keep her regret from her voice.

Still silent, he watched her, and she felt a wave of remorse from him. She turned and left the room, not certain if he was reflecting her feelings back at her or if he actually felt regret at remaining mortal. Glancing back into the room before closing the door, she watched him slide off the bed and begin to pace around the room, trying to burn off his excess energy until Eames returned.

She closed the door and started down the hall, meeting Eames at the top of the stairs as she returned with the glass of water. Eames eyed her with deep suspicion, and Summer knew that Eames would never fully trust her. After what had just happened in the bedroom, perhaps she was right not to trust her. But Summer had done the right thing, despite the driving need she felt to satisfy the want in her.

Goren felt emotion very strongly and projected it well, which made it more difficult for Summer to mitigate the powerful connection she now had with him. His emotions overwhelmed her, so it took more effort on her part to get past him to feel what Eames felt. Eames was much better at burying her emotions and very guarded at letting them out to play, but of one thing, Summer was certain. The love Eames felt for him was deep and genuine.

Eames gripped the glass tightly. "What did you do?"

"You wanted to know," Summer replied, struggling to keep her emotions out of her voice.

"Is he...?"

The regret returned as the barrier she struggled to keep up crumbled. She trembled as desire filled her once again. "Excuse me," she said urgently, her voice trembling.

"Summer!"

Halfway down the stairs, Summer turned. "He is mortal," she answered, no longer able to hide what she felt.

Eames saw the deep regret in the healer and realized that Summer had hoped, on some level, that she had taken him over the edge. She wondered what would have changed in him if Summer had been successful. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Go to him. He needs you now."

She watched Eames turn and hurry down the hall. She would find him whole and desperate for her, which would not be the case if she had given in to the fire that had consumed them both. If she had succumbed, he would be denizen. He was bonded to Eames, but he didn't know, any more than she did, how to deal with the connection they had. Perhaps it would fade over time, and she hoped it would. In the meantime, Ethan was going to be a very happy man.


	29. An Eternal Wrong

Eames dozed beside Goren, who slept deeply. She stirred when the door opened, filled with a familiar sensation. Her mind became muffled, as if wrapped in cotton, and she slid from under the sheets, rising without waking him. Still nestled within a kind of twilight sleep, she left the room.

Much later, Goren rolled over, sliding his arm around Eames. She let him draw her in and began to nibble at his throat, setting him afire. Neither of them had ever been passive with each other, but she felt a fire in her gut stronger than anything she'd felt before, driven by a deep desire she could barely control. He began to take the lead as sleep slid away from his brain, but she refused to relinquish it. With a noise that was half laugh and half groan, he surrendered to her completely...

Something felt different deep inside her. A dull ache had begun to nag at her weeks ago, but it had been easily ignored with everything that was going on. Strange things had been happening, little things she could not quite explain and had simply attributed to stress. But now, all of a sudden it seemed, she just felt...different. And she felt an almost constant, nearly overwhelming need to be with Goren. She had never wanted a man, any man, so badly before in her life. She loved him, yes, but her need for him transcended that, and she didn't understand what was going on. Oddly, it never occurred to her to blame Ethan and his people for the changes in her, and she continued, without success, to try ignoring her body's driving demands.

* * *

Goren was sleeping when Summer came into the room to find Eames watching him, waiting for him to waken as her body ached for him again. Summer had never been much in tune with Eames, but the desire she felt as she came into the room was overpowering—and very much denizen. She studied Eames, struggling with the emotion rolling off her in waves. Her brow furrowed. "Detective, have you been spending time with Ethan?"

Eames looked at her with confusion. "Not any more than usual."

"With any other denizen?"

"No. Why would I? I prefer to be with Bobby."

Summer frowned, puzzled. She approached Eames, reached out with a tentative hand to touch her chin. When Eames didn't pull away, Summer gently tipped her chin up and looked at her throat. The marks were fading, but she definitely had fang marks on her neck, marks Summer knew she did not leave. Summer's frown deepened and she looked at Goren. "Has he bitten you?"

"No. Why? I thought he couldn't."

"He can not," she agreed.

Summer moved her fingers from Eames' chin, drawing them gently across the fading marks on her throat. Eames' response was powerful, as powerful as Goren's when she touched his throat. "I need to speak with Ethan."

She left the room as Eames struggled with herself, determined to let Goren sleep despite her desperate need for him.

* * *

Summer found Ethan at the dining table with Jeremy. "Good morning, my love," he said with a smile.

"We have to talk."

"You are troubled. Is Robert all right?"

"It is not Robert who worries me at the moment. Have you spent any time with his lover?"

"A few minutes here and there. Nothing clandestine. Why?"

"She's marked, Ethan. She swears she's been with no one but him, but he could not have left those marks on her throat."

"What are you saying, Summer?"

"He is not denizen, Ethan. But her...everything I sense from her says that _she_ is."

Ethan sat straighter in his seat. "What?"

"Someone converted her, in secret and against her will."

"And she is unaware?"

"Entirely."

Jeremy looked from one to the other. "Who would do such a thing?"

Ethan's expression was grim; his eyes burned with anger. "I will find out. I want the name of every denizen who has been here at the house since Robert was shot."

"Do you think it started back then?" Jeremy asked.

"She was not converted overnight. This has to have been going on since shortly after that."

"And we did not notice?" Summer interjected, puzzled.

"Why would we have? Our attention was focused on Robert. You drew blood from her, so any marks were easily explained. Mortals heal so slowly no one noticed anything amiss with her. Apparently, whoever among us did this was able to fog her mind and clear her memory. Few have that ability. It was not you and Daniel wasn't here long enough. I want the names of those capable of doing this."

Summer smiled at him with affection. "Perhaps you should pay closer attention to those around you, my love."

"My home is open to every denizen."

"And so is your trust."

"Which has been betrayed."

Summer could feel his anger growing with each passing moment. Over the two centuries she had known him, Summer had seen his temper erupt just a handful of times. Easy-going and very slow to anger, Ethan was the most even-tempered person she knew. But when crossed, he was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Quietly, she said, "You have a deep affection for her."

"And for him. They did not want this."

"That's not entirely true, Ethan. _He_ did. Had she not been so against it, he would have let me continue and convert him."

"Are you certain?"

"Positive. He only said no because of her, because he loves her."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, looking across the room. "Who among us here has the ability to do what was done to her and hide it from her?"

Summer looked at Jeremy. "Who has been around lately, Jeremy?"

As the only one who prepared their meals, Jeremy would have seen every denizen at the mansion. "Aside from those who live here, only a handful have been around regularly."

"It was not one who lives here," Ethan said with certainty. "Only Summer could have done it and she did not. Who else have you seen?"

Jeremy listed a dozen names of denizens who had been around regularly since Goren had taken the bullet to his chest. Ethan nodded. "Thank you, Jeremy."

The denizen chef rose from the table, cleared the plates and went to the kitchen. Ethan looked at Summer. "Well?"

"Two among those Jeremy has seen could have done it. Willow or Jaron."

Ethan thought about the two denizens. "Willow would not have done that. She would not go against my will. But Jaron...he has caused trouble in the past."

Summer nodded. "I agree. Jaron is the more likely of the two."

"Jeremy!"

Jeremy appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. "Yes, Ethan?"

"Take Gerard and find Jaron. Bring him to me, by force if necessary."

With a nod, Jeremy was gone.

Ethan tapped his fingers on the table, agitated. "You are certain she doesn't know?"

"Absolutely."

"They must be told."

"She neither likes nor trusts me, Ethan, but I can talk to Robert."

Ethan nodded. "I should deal with Jaron first. They will have questions and I want to have answers for them."

"I will wait with you."

Ethan welcomed her presence. Not only would she be useful in reading Jaron for deceit, but she would be able to moderate his own anger. A half hour passed before Jeremy and Gerard returned, each flanking Jaron. "What's this about?" Jaron demanded. "Why are your goons strongarming me, Ethan?"

"Because we need to talk. You've been here at the mansion a number of times over the last couple of months, haven't you?"

"You know I have. So have others. What do you want, Ethan?"

Summer said, "Your defensiveness does not speak well of you, Jaron."

"Can you read minds now, Summer?"

"Not minds. Emotions. You are nervous and defensive. What troubles you?"

The muscles of Jaron's jaw knotted as he worked them. Quietly, Ethan said, "Why?"

Jaron's shoulders slumped. "He will make a fine denizen. He wanted it, but the woman held him back. Now, he is free to make his own choice."

"What about her choice?"

"She loves him. It was her fear that held her back. Now, she has nothing to fear. I was gentle, Ethan, and I made certain she enjoyed it each time."

Summer could easily read Jaron, and she knew he had done more than was required to convert her, that he had gone further and that angered her. "You took her body and her mind," she accused.

"What?" Ethan demanded as his anger rose.

"She was willing! She wanted it every time, I swear!"

"You clouded her mind, Jaron! It was _not_ her choice! That is not our way!"

"She's just a mortal and there is no law against it. I checked before I did it. It is discouraged and generally accepted as law, which is enough to keep us in line and to protect the mortals, but it is not actually against our laws."

Ethan pushed back his shoulders and stood to his full six foot, two inch height. "This is _my_ community. I enforce the local laws and what you did is against _my_ rules. It may not be enough to bring you to the Council, but it is enough to expel you from this community. For me, there is no such thing as 'just a mortal'. You are not welcome here any longer, Jaron. You have two days to leave or I _will_ send you to the Council because ignoring an expulsion command is grounds for them to get involved."

Jaron trembled. "I did it for the best of the community!" he argued. "He wanted it and you said he would be an asset to our community if he would consent to conversion! I heard you!"

"And if you had converted him, it would be a different situation entirely."

"I thought about that, but I am unwilling to convert another male. Besides, he has too much of Summer in him. She has to convert him. The woman, his lover, was largely untainted and open to me. It was my only option. I knew if I converted her, he would follow."

"No. Your only real option was to do nothing, to allow them to live with the choices they made. It is not for us to decide what is best for them. Dammit, Jaron, you removed her will from the equation! You violated her mind and her body! That was wrong! Unspeakably wrong!"

Summer lightly touched Ethan's arm. She felt his rising anger which he reined in at her touch. With his eyes closed, he took a few deep breaths. "You violated my rules, the laws of my community. She did not want to be converted. You will leave my area and never return. I will inform Daniel of my order...and your actions."

Jaron's lip curled into a sneer as his fear evaporated. "What will Daniel do?" he demanded. "He has little use for mortals. Why would he care if I converted her?"

"I agree that Daniel cares little for mortals, but these two have earned a special place among us, despite their being mortal. Daniel knows the debt we owe them."

"Debt? What could they possibly have done to make the Council notice them? The Council does not busy itself with the affairs of mortals."

"You are a new denizen," Ethan replied. He owed Jaron nothing, but he felt the need to let him know why his two mortal guests were special to the denizen world. "You do not remember Marcellus, but I am certain you have heard of him."

"Marcellus was destroyed before I was born. He is of no consequence."

"I beg to differ, Jaron. He has been of great consequence. No denizen has murdered more than he. More people, both denizen and mortal, have suffered at his hand than from the rest of our people combined. He was more powerful than any of us imagined. It is only because of our two guests that we now know for certain he is gone. That leaves us in their debt. That is why they matter to the Council."

Jaron's arrogance increased. "You think too much of mortals, Ethan."

"You were mortal once, too, a mere half-century ago. We interact with them here more than in other communities. Perhaps you should find one with less contact."

"Suppose I want to stay?"

"That is not an option for you. We cannot undo what you have done, the damage you have caused!"

His anger surged again. He was deeply fond of the two mortals whose trust Jaron violated. He didn't know how he was going to handle the fallout of Jaron's actions, but he did know what to do with Jaron. Other communities would be wary of accepting him, knowing he had been expelled from the community that had welcomed him as a denizen. He would remain an outcast for many, many years, not truly accepted in any community until he proved his worth. That would take a lot of doing. What Ethan faced, however, was much more serious with far-reaching ramifications for his little corner of the world.

Ethan looked at Jaron with disdain. "I never want to see you again." He looked at Gerard. "Two days."

Gerard nodded. "I understand, Lord Ethan."

Ethan turned and stormed from the room with Summer right behind him. She followed him to his office, where he sat heavily on the couch and covered his face with both hands. She felt his distress and shared it, sitting lightly beside him. "We must tell them," she said softly.

"Of course we must, but how? She already doesn't trust us, and rightly so, it seems. How could this have happened, Summer?"

"It should not have, but it did."

He reached out to her and folded his arms around her, deeply distressed. "We can not undo it, nor, I fear, is there any way we can make it right."

"Daniel will be furious. Although he doesn't care much for mortals, he believes as you do, that we should not convert them without their consent. Had this happened to any other mortal, he would take the matter in stride, but these two...they are different. They are the exception. I do not envy Jaron when Daniel summons him."

"Will he?"

Summer nodded. "He will. And I am certain he will censure Jaron for his actions, demand reparation."

"That will make it even more difficult for Jaron to find a community to welcome him. It does not, however, help us with our problem."

"She will be extremely upset."

"Upset? You have a gift for understatement, my love. We could not have done her a greater wrong."

"And Robert? He will be equally enraged. There is no way to mitigate this damage, Ethan. We must face it—and them."

"Give me a moment, darling."

She ran her hand over his hair and his back, comforting him. After a few minutes, he leaned over and gave her a kiss. "There is no way we can make restitution for this. I am at a loss."

"We should proceed one step at a time. Step one is to tell them what has happened. Perhaps they will guide us into the next step we must take."

Ethan turned his head to look at her. Ever practical, that was his Summer. Even with the return of her emotional self, she remained a voice of reason for him, and he cherished her. "Very well. Let's talk to them."

They would face the two detectives together. There was no question of that. Each would support the other as they did what they could to handle the damage Jaron had caused. Rising from the couch, Ethan held out his hand. Summer slipped her hand into his and they left the office.


	30. Torn

Not long after being left alone, Eames gently woke Goren, easily drawing him into a state of arousal and loving him fiercely. He was delighted but confused by the change in her. She had always preferred him to be gentle, which was a struggle for him at times, especially with denizen blood in his veins. Lately, though, she'd wanted him to be more vigorous. She started pushing him to be rough sometime after they'd returned from Ethan's mansion, after the shooting. Her demands increased over time, especially as he recovered from his encounter with Marcellus. He welcomed the change, even if he didn't understand it. He didn't mind being gentle, but sometimes, he wanted more and he was afraid it was a need she would be unable to meet. He struggled with himself to dismiss those needs until he could address the issue with her. Now, it seemed, the issue was resolved.

After a hard finish, he tried to talk to her, but she was resistant to conversation and drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep. Usually, he was the one who didn't want to talk. He stayed beside her, listening to her slow, deep breathing as he tried to figure out what was going on. Something was different, but he was at a loss to identify it. As he grew restless, he slid from the bed, pulled on his pants and began to pace in the dark room. He was troubled but he didn't know why. Standing at the foot of the bed, he watched her sleep, allowing his mind to wander.

His attention was drawn from her by a cursory knock on the door. Turning, he watched Ethan and Summer enter the room. Ethan looked at Eames as Summer focused her attention on Goren. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Can't you tell?" he challenged.

She smiled. "I prefer to hear your assessment."

"So you can verify your own?" He leaned against the footboard, arms folded across his chest, and watched her. His expression softened. "I'm tired, but I feel okay."

"You are troubled."

He paused, then nodded. "Yes."

She knew he sensed something wrong, even if he didn't know what it was. "What troubles you?"

He paused again, thinking back to the last real discussion he'd had with Eames. "Tell me: Am I more mortal or more denizen?"

She looked at him curiously. "Does it matter?"

"I wouldn't ask if it didn't."

"She wants to know, doesn't she?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "I, uh, I don't think I'm much different than I was before. I feel the same, but she seems concerned that I'm, uh, too much like you."

"That bothers you."

"Not that I might be more like you, no. But it does bother me that she thinks it's an issue."

"You are afraid it will come between you."

"It already has."

Mortal or denizen... He was partially both yet not fully either. He had his foot in both worlds yet he did not belong in either. He shrugged it off to those around him, even to Eames, but the truth of the matter was it bothered him. He was used to being an outcast, the one who did not fit in with any particular crowd. With Eames, though, he'd found a place of belonging. When their relationship took a turn into the bedroom, he felt the warmth of true love for the first time. It was more than sex, more than a soft body warming his bed. When she demanded all or nothing, he chose to give her all, and she loved him more for it. Now, all of that was in jeopardy because she couldn't get past the denizen part of him, and nothing had ever hurt him more. Even Summer, with whom he also had a deep connection, had issues with him. She could not get past the part of him that was mortal. Each of them rejected something that was part of him, through no fault of his own, and he was hurt by that. But he buried the pain, acted like it didn't matter, because that was what he'd learned to do. Never let them see that you're vulnerable. Never let them see the blood they drew.

Summer looked toward Ethan, who stood at the bedside. Goren turned to follow her gaze, seeing the concern on Ethan's face before the club owner could hide it. He shifted his attention back to Summer. "What's wrong?"

"We need to talk to you."

"So talk."

"Not here. Something has happened, and we have to talk to you alone."

"Does it involve her?"

"Why would you ask that?"

He twisted at the waist to look at his sleeping partner. "Why else would you want to talk to me alone?"

"Please, Robert. Come with us," Summer softly implored.

Finally, Goren moved away from the bed and grabbed his shirt. Summer stepped up to the bed and examined Eames' throat again. She met Ethan's eyes and they left the room.

As they walked down the hall toward the stairwell, Goren pulled on his shirt and Ethan said, "You do realize that our offer to convert you extended to her, that you could both become denizen together."

Goren became uncomfortable. "What's the problem? Did you take me too far?"

"No," Summer replied as they descended the stairs. "You are not denizen. But I would like to understand why she is so against it."

Goren sighed as they reached the landing and continued down the second set of stairs to the main floor. "She is a practical person. She tends to be by-the-book and things beyond her experience make her uncomfortable. She doesn't trust what she can't examine with her senses. Like most people, she is afraid of the unknown."

"And you? Do you also fear the unknown?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Me? No, not so much. I, uh, I have been facing the unknown my entire life. My mother...has schizophrenia. I'm not afraid of things I don't understand."

"So how do you handle the unknown?"

"I find a way to understand it. Then it's no longer...unknown."

They entered Ethan's office, where Summer turned toward Goren, reaching out to touch his chin and tip his head up a little so she could see his throat. Her stomach did a little flop at the fresh marks on his neck. There was no doubt. "She loved you recently."

"Uh...yes..." he answered, uncertain.

"How was it?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"How did it feel for you? More intense, less intense?"

"M-more intense. She was...uh, very demanding."

"That is unusual for her?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, yes...but...lately she has been...different with me."

She nodded slowly, not surprised by any of his answers. "She has become increasingly demanding, wanting more from you. She wants it rough...especially since you have been back here at the mansion."

He frowned and glared at her, suspicion in his eyes. "Have you been...watching us?" he demanded, starting to get angry.

"No, my dear," she assured him. "No one violated your privacy. No one has been watching you."

He calmed, reassured. He trusted her word. "So how...how do you know? Are you that, uh...in tune with me?"

"Yes and no, but that has nothing to do with my questions."

"I don't understand."

Ethan paced near the desk. "Has she been rougher and more demanding than she has ever been?"

Goren looked at him, very uncomfortable with the course of the conversation. "Yes. Why? Is something wrong?"

Softly, Summer said, "You have fresh marks on your throat, Robert—marks I did not give you. The marks I gave you yesterday have healed."

He touched his throat and felt the fresh marks as he fought down the sensations that rose from deep inside him, sensations he very much enjoyed but did not want to deal with at the moment. He still healed faster than a mortal; the marks would be gone by morning. If he were denizen, they'd be gone even sooner. His healing didn't trouble him, but the presence of the marks, not knowing where they came from, did. He stared at Summer. "I don't remember being bitten," he said with a frown. Eames had nuzzled his throat, which set him into a frenzy, but...fresh marks on his neck? She hadn't..._bitten_ him...had she? And if she had...what marks would she have left? Certainly not marks like Summer left...His restlessness increased as his mind began to spin. "You...You looked at her throat..."

She nodded. "Her neck bore no fresh marks."

"None?" he asked with a frown.

Being full denizen, Eames healed faster than Goren; Jaron's fang marks were gone. The nearly healed lesions she saw were from Goren, just hours old and almost gone. "No, none. She has only fading marks that are almost healed."

"That's impossible. She should have, uh, some kind of mark." He hadn't bitten her, not like a denizen, but he'd left other marks, which still should have been there. "What's going on?" he demanded, his gut tight with a vague dread he couldn't identify.

Ethan sighed. It was time to be direct with this man, to tell him everything he needed to know so he could cope with the changes he and his lover would now face. "Our world is divided into distinct, autonomous communities. The leader of each community sets the rules for the people who live in his jurisdiction. I am a generous leader. I allow my people the freedom to live their lives as they choose, with few restrictions. Like other leaders, I protect the anonymity of our people. Unlike many others, though, I also protect the mortals with whom my people may come into contact. Had Warren not made his mistake, you would never have become aware of us. But what's done is done." He leaned against his desk, crossing one ankle over the other, and looked at Goren and Summer. "I have established few laws for my people to follow, so when one is broken, I take it personally. I did not lie when I told you that mortals are not converted against their will. It is one of my strictest rules, and I make no exceptions."

Goren felt Summer's emotional distress and he could see that Ethan was upset. His mind began making connections. "But someone violated that law...about converting a mortal against his will."

Ethan nodded. "He did, and he has been banished. But I cannot undo what he has done."

Goren felt a mild panic rise as he looked back and forth between the two denizens. Summer moved closer to him and softly said, "Robert, he converted her."

Without thinking, Ethan added, "He robbed her of her will and violated her mind and her body."

Goren sat heavily on the couch, his mind racing. He felt nauseous. His head began to spin and he didn't know what to think. He got stuck on one word, which he repeated, as though struggling to understand its meaning. "Violated...He _violated_ her..."

Summer looked at Ethan. She could feel the pain and confusion she saw on Goren's face, and she was deeply troubled that there was nothing she could do for him. She slowly lowered herself to the couch beside him, tentatively touching his arm. She expected him to pull away, but he didn't. He didn't move, except to look at her. When he met her eyes, she felt the full impact of his anger and distress, his fear and outrage. For several long moments, she could not move, overwhelmed by the power of his reaction. Recovering, she slowly slid her fingers down his arm to his hand. Struggling to keep the emotion from her voice, she said softly, "She had no control over what happened to her."

Goren looked back and forth between Ethan and Summer, barely containing his rage. "Where-Where is he?" he demanded.

Ethan understood his anger. He even shared in it. But there was nothing else he could do. Jaron would heal quickly from any damage the angry cop did to him. Goren, on the other hand, was still susceptible to lethal damage; he was only part denizen. Jaron was banished, an outcast. He could kill Goren if confronted with his uncontrolled fury, which was something Ethan would not allow. He would protect Goren while he remained vulnerable. "As I said, I have banished him. Gerard is making certain he leaves the area. Trust me, it is adequate punishment. Having been evicted from my community, he will not be welcome among many others. His options are very limited."

Summer was overwhelmed by Goren's rage. He had no focus for his fury and it was beginning to consume him. His eyes darted around the room, then back to Summer. His hands shook and his breathing was ragged. She released his hand and laid her palm flat against his chest. Her empathy enabled her to feel his fury, and she tried to turn the connection around, to reach out to him and calm him. He closed his eyes, and his breathing evened out. Raising his hand, he laid it over hers. "Thank you," he whispered.

She nodded, meeting his eyes when he opened them. He closed his hand over hers. Ethan watched them silently, relieved that Summer was able to calm him. He stepped away from his desk and addressed Goren. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

Goren was still furious, but he was under control now. "I want to get my hands on the man who did this to her."

"Since that is not possible, what is your second choice?"

He shook his head. "I don't know...I have no other choice. I just want _him_."

"He is gone," Summer replied, knowing it would be suicide for him to track down Jaron. "You must trust that Ethan's banishment will follow him for years, making him an outcast among our people."

His hands began to shake. "She didn't want this! He..." He got to his feet and began to pace again. Pushing a hand through his hair, he said, "How could he do this? _Why_ would he?"

Ethan and Summer exchanged a look. Ethan spoke first. "The _how_ is that he overrode her will. He is one of few among us with that ability."

"So he...took away her will and..._stole_ her...her humanity."

Ethan shook his head. "Not her humanity. Her mortality. She is denizen now, but she is still human."

"She is the same woman you fell in love with," Summer added. "She will still find joy in a summer rain or an autumn breeze, the laugh of a child, the warmth of your love."

Goren closed his eyes as his mind strayed with Summer's words. Then he snapped back to reality. "You said he...violated her mind and her body."

Summer rose and moved closer to him. "There are some things you must understand about the process. Once he reached a certain point with her, she could not have refused him."

He was confused, unable to focus. He continued to pace, trying without success to burn off his rage. "She could not have refused him...what?" he demanded, his emotions spinning out of control as he tried hard to remain in denial.

He met Summer's eyes, and she reached out to him, physically and emotionally. She suppressed her own anger at Jaron, trying to absorb some of his out-of-control fury, helping him rein it in and calm himself, which he could not do without her help.

Trembling, he dropped to his knees and held his head with both hands. Summer knelt in front of him, stroking his hair. He leaned forward, pressing the top of his head into her chest. She smoothed her hands over his hair, remaining silent because she didn't know what to say. She knew of no words to soothe him.

Slowly, he pulled himself together, finding a measure of calm through Summer's efforts to reach him. Eventually, he withdrew from her. "I need to know...what he did," he said softly.

She nodded in agreement. He had a right to know, so he could explain it to Eames. She rose gracefully to her feet and held out her hand. "Come, sit by me."

Rising, he took her hand and let her lead him back to the couch, where he sat beside her. He did not release her hand as she began to explain. "First of all, you should know there is a lot more to conversion than simple blood exchanges."

"Is it painful?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. There is no pain involved, only intense pleasure. You have had a taste of it. During conversion, that pleasure is...immeasurable. She suffered no pain, I promise you."

"So...she's all right?"

"She is better than all right, dearest. She is denizen."

Ethan walked around his desk and sat down, ready to help Summer in any way if she needed him. He watched Goren, who was focused on Summer. Her voice was soft as she continued, "When I exchanged blood with you, it was to save your life. While the process is the same, it is not as progressive. I took very little of your blood-only enough to save you. When blood is exchanged and a mortal is driven toward conversion, it is very different. Blood is taken and given, in fairly equal amounts. The time it takes depends on the individuals. Some proceed faster, to complete the transition and get on with denizen life. Others proceed more slowly, to prolong it and intensify the process. The longer it takes, the more profound the transition. Few couples move quickly through the process."

"If she had consented, and allowed Ethan to convert her..."

"She would have been aware of everything, and it would have been a good experience for her. The way Jaron went about it, she will not remember any of it. She was human one day and denizen the next, and that is all she will know."

"But that's not how it happened."

"No. It's not. He took his time, brought her over gradually. It was a gentle, profoundly intense transition."

He became more restless, not sure how much he really wanted to know. "So...she'll never know."

"She will and she won't. Her subconscious will remember it, but her conscious mind won't. When he took over her will, he made her receptive to him. After each encounter, he erased her memories of it. Her mind does not remember what happened, but her body does, and it drives her to want more. That is what she will continue to seek from you."

He touched the bite marks on his neck. "She doesn't know she did this?"

Summer shook her head. "Some time will pass before she will remember what she does."

"So...she made love..."

"But she will not remember it. She is still driven by her conversion. During daylight hours, even if she is not consciously aware it is day, when she is not sleeping, she will appear to be her normal self, but as night approaches, that will slip away from her. She may seem perfectly normal, until the sun sets. She will then be overwhelmed by needs she cannot control. As a new convert, her desire will be insatiable as her body adjusts to the changes. After that, she will be perfectly fine, perfectly denizen, and very much herself."

"She has no control over it?"

"She does, to an extent, but her desire is like an itch. It increases in intensity until it is scratched. It will begin as a kind of tickle deep within her and it will increase until she can think of little more than filling her need. If you are not available when it becomes overwhelming, she will seek out someone who is available. I recommend she remain with us until this phase passes."

"She'll seek out someone else? How long will that last?"

"She will turn to you first, then Ethan. In the absence of both of you, she will reach a point that it does not matter who takes care of her, as long as that person is willing. I cannot predict how long this phase will last. Sometimes it lasts for weeks, sometimes longer."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't like this, Summer. You never told me about this."

"You refused conversion. There was no need to tell you. The circumstances have changed."

He withdrew from her again, rising to pace restlessly around the office. "Why? Why...did he do it?"

Summer looked at Ethan, who nodded and rose from the desk. Walking around, he sat down in the closest chair. "It was for you," he said.

"For...me? What the hell does that mean?"

Ethan leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "You wanted to be converted, but you said no because she was so much against it."

"So? You said I had the right to refuse."

"And you do. But Jaron overheard discussions about you, and he took it upon himself to convert her. He removed what he saw as the only obstacle to your conversion. In his own way, he felt he was helping the community because you would certainly be an asset for us. He saw no other option."

"He could have left her alone! Why didn't he just convert me?"

Summer shook her head. "He could not. You have too much of my blood in you. No one else can convert you, not even Ethan, not now. And Jaron was unwilling to attempt converting another man. Same gender conversions are very rare."

"So...only you can convert me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"And you would?"

"Of course I would, if you wanted it. I have told you that from the start."

Ethan calmly added, "There was another option that Jaron did not consider. Instead of converting her, he could have taken her life."

Goren stopped in his tracks and looked at them as though Ethan had struck him. Desperate to change topics, to stop thinking about what Jaron had done, what he could have done, he sat on the arm of the couch near Summer, and he looked at her. His mind jumped tracks and he asked, "What would it take for you to convert me? More blood exchanges?"

"That is part of it, but there is a little more to it than that."

Focusing his mind on what had transpired before, when Summer took his blood, he recalled his body's reaction, the fire that had consumed him... "It, uh, it involves sex, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Does it have to?"

"It does. It is not something you can fight, dearest. It is an overwhelming compulsion once you reach the point of no return."

He studied her, trying to fight his body's reaction to the memories. He ran his hand through his hair, still feeling unstable. "You know what I feel...at any given time, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. I am very aware of you, Robert. You feel emotion intensely, and you project it very well. Sometimes...I cannot think, I can barely breathe when I am near you. I find myself able to block the emotions of others with more success as time goes by. But you...I cannot do it with you. I feel everything you feel with a similar burning intensity."

Despite his turmoil, he still felt concern for her, and deep affection. "That has to be...difficult for you."

"It is extremely difficult."

He shifted uncomfortably. "But your empathy, that's not what makes it difficult."

He was extremely perceptive—and very direct. "Not entirely, no," she admitted.

"You wish I was not bonded to her."

He had a knack for drawing forth the truth. "I told you as much. But you _are_ bonded, and I will not interfere with that. I cannot interfere." She looked at Ethan, who smiled at her. "Of course, the entire situation makes Ethan very happy-and very satisfied."

Goren rubbed the back of his neck as he recognized the gleam in Ethan's eyes. "Because he...he reaps the benefits of your, uhm, your empathy...for me."

"And of the connection we share."

"The connection..." He'd almost forgotten about that. "It's still...strong, isn't it?"

She wondered why he chose to challenge her. "You know it is. That isn't likely to change."

He wasn't surprised by what she said. He felt the connection he shared with her, its strength and its power. It was something he had been trying hard to ignore, until now. Before now, he and Eames were planning to return to their lives and Ethan and Summer would get on with theirs. Thanks to Jaron, everything had changed, drastically. "I felt it...before I knew what it was. It was disturbing for me, because I know she would never understand. Now...I find it...reassuring."

"It's a good thing," she assured him. "It is that connection that enabled you to control your rage."

"_You_ helped me control it."

"Yes."

He drew in a deep breath, once again seeking calm through the emotional connection he shared with her. "There's a lot you have not told me," he accused, though there was no venom in his voice. "There's so much I...I don't understand."

She felt his uncertainty, how off-center he was. She moved closer to him, taking his hand and gripping it firmly. "I know. I will tell you whatever you want to know," she promised.

He grew skeptical. "I am not denizen," he reminded her.

"No, you are not, not fully. As I have said, nothing about our situation is routine. You already know more about my people than any mortal. You want to understand, and because of what happened to your lover, you have the right to know."

"Do you have a connection with others you've converted, like what you have with me?"

"No, not like what I have with you. Whatever happened to restore my empathy, it has never happened before, and it connects us in a way no mortal and denizen have ever been connected. Whether you convert or choose to remain mortal, Daniel believes our connection is permanent. Once again, nothing about our situation is normal."

"Nothing about _me_ is normal, Summer."

"Perhaps that is your charm," she offered.

He met her eyes and almost smiled. His affection for Summer, and his deep attachment to her, made Eames extremely uncomfortable. _Eames..._ His mind swung back to her and what all of this meant for her. "You told me that some kind of connection remains between a new denizen and the one who converted him or her. So-so Alex will remain...connected...to the man who converted her?"

Summer heard in his voice the dismay she felt course through him. She caressed his arm tenderly. "Would you be so troubled if Ethan had converted her?"

"No. I know Ethan. I know he would never try to...to harm her."

"And you are afraid Jaron will." She understood his concern, and she tried to reassure him. "Because she was converted against her will, it may be different for her. I have no experience with these circumstances."

"So we...guess?"

She smiled. "No, dear. I will contact Daniel and seek his counsel. He will know what we can expect, and what we can do, if anything."

"Like he knows what happened between us?"

Ethan laughed and Summer glared at him. He apologized, but his laughter resurrected Goren's fury. "There's not one damn thing funny about this, Ethan," he growled.

Summer rose and stepped in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders. So much was beyond his understanding and control, and that was difficult for him. "What happened between us is unique," she said gently, drawing his attention to her. She held his gaze and continued, "But what happened to her is not."

She struggled to help him control himself and, as he continued to meet her eyes, he finally surrendered his rage to her. She felt his shoulders relax beneath her hands. "Please," he whispered. "Please tell me she will be all right."

"She will," Summer promised, understanding that much of his anger was driven by worry. "The circumstances of her conversion are different, so other things will be different. Give me the chance to talk to Daniel."

He nodded, fighting against the unsettled jumble of emotions that had replaced his rage. She caressed his hair. "It will be all right," she promised.

"How do you know that?" he challenged, seeking to regain his anger, because that was an emotion with which he was comfortable, an emotion he understood.

"Because you and Alex are strong, and you will not accept any other outcome. Denizen or not, she will still love you."

He trembled again. She had come so close to hitting the nail on the head and voicing his deepest fear. "Is this going to, to change her? You know, the way she thinks and feels about...things?"

"I don't know."

He suddenly withdrew from her, jerking away as he got to his feet and crossed the room. He stood near the fireplace, looking into the darkness that surrounded the cold ash behind the hearth. He pressed his forehead against the mantle, groaning softly in pain.

Summer was stunned for a moment, feeling physical pain at his withdrawal, a pain he felt as well. She did not know how to respond to that. Tentatively, she reached out to him, seeking to reconnect with his emotions. He tried to stop her, even though he could not. "Robert," she said softly as she approached him. She stood on the other side of the hearth and waited for him to look at her. When he did, she asked, "Why are you so guarded right now?"

He shrugged, but she felt his uncertainty—and his fear. Those he could not hide. She moved closer, reaching out to take his hand, relieved that he allowed it. "You are afraid she will no longer love you or want you. As unique as these circumstances are, I can tell you one thing with certainty: she truly loves you. Her conversion will only make her more inclined to show you that. Conversion releases you from mortal inhibitions and moral constraints."

He turned, leaning against the brick wall that bordered the fireplace. He let her words spin about in his mind, and he felt calmer. Turning his head to look at her, he confirmed, "Conversion gets rid of inhibitions?"

"Yes, it does."

"But you...?"

"There are exceptions to every rule, and I am one."

"But not so much since the return of your empathy."

"You are right, and after centuries of rigid control, I struggle with the things I now feel."

"Ethan is no longer enough?"

She eyed him, a gentle smile on her face. "Again, you challenge me, Robert?"

"I am...curious."

Reaching out, she ran her fingers along the side of his face. This was not about her. He was trying to refocus, to find a topic he did not fear. She sought to reassure him and dispel his fear rather than allow him to suppress it and let it fester. "You feel wounded. Please try to remember that she did not betray you."

He was trying, but it was difficult. Again, he sought to distract himself. "If I consent to let you convert me..."

"It will be an entirely different experience from what she went though. Every conversion is different, and you will be aware of everything that happens to you."

His mouth twitched but he kept a straight face. "You won't erase my mind?"

"I could, but I will not. That is not my way. Do you not want to remember?"

"I do. I just...I wondered if you had the same ability."

His way of ferreting out the information he wanted amused her. "You can simply ask me, you know."

"Where's the challenge in that?"

Always he needed to be challenged. Finally she smiled. "I will challenge you when you need it. For now, trust me when I tell you that much is going to change, but much will also remain the same. Most importantly, she will still love you."

Another thought struck him. "Will she have to...leave her life behind?"

Ethan shook his head. "Several of my people hold jobs among mortals. Over time, if she chooses to keep her job, she will adjust to being out and about during daylight hours."

"I meant her family."

"There is no need for her to break contact with them."

"And when they continue to age while she stays thirty-three?"

Ethan smiled. "There are ways for her to appear to age."

"Hollywood does it all the time," Summer added with amusement. "There is time to figure that out."

He studied her as he thought about the unique connection they shared. He derived a great deal of comfort and emotional stability from her, and that wasn't a bad thing. If the connection was permanent, he knew that he would like that. He wanted to keep what he had with her, and he felt no guilt over it, but he did wonder what Eames would say about it. He moved away from Summer, back to the couch, and sat down, rubbing his eyes. He was getting tired, and his emotions were becoming more confused. Summer sat beside him as Ethan said, "The sun is up. The denizen part of you seeks rest, regeneration. She will also sleep until sunset."

"Are you sure about that?"

Summer nodded. "Positive. She is a new denizen. She will sleep through the daylight hours."

Once more, Goren began to get agitated. "I can't...until I talk to her...I-I just...can't..."

"She will not miss you," Summer answered, distressed by the hurt he felt. Eames was the only one who could soothe away that pain. "Are you certain you want to sleep in another room?"

He hesitated before nodding. "I have a lot of thinking to do."

"If you do not sleep, it will not disturb her."

"But I won't be able to think...with her right there."

She did not agree with his decision, but she did understand what he felt. "I will take you to another room. We'll let you know when she wakens."

Wearily, he got to his feet and walked to the door with her. "Robert," Ethan called. When he turned, the denizen leader said, "Listen to Summer, my friend. She speaks the truth. Alex loves you deeply and Jaron's actions do not change that. She did not betray you."

Goren looked at him for a long time before he nodded and turned away, leaving the room with Summer, but he did not change his mind.


	31. Summer's Oversight

Summer led Goren to a different bedroom. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, and she waited. "What Jaron did was very wrong. Do you agree?" he challenged.

"Yes."

"Will he really be punished?"

"Yes."

"The punishment will...suit the crime?"

"It will."

"I'm not convinced."

She moved closer. "Our ways are different than yours, but our methods are effective. Jaron will regret what he has done."

"But will it deter him from doing it again?"

"Can you guarantee your system of justice will deter the future activities of those it punishes?"

"Summer..."

She touched his back. "Robert, Jaron is a good man. He honestly believed he was doing the right thing. Ethan and I have always said you would be an asset to our community, and that becoming a denizen would be good for you. But the decision has always been yours to make, and we have respected that. Jaron felt the decision you made to remain mortal was the wrong decision. Converting you was not an option for him. Since he was convinced Alex was the one preventing you from consenting, he took it upon himself to remove that obstacle. He chose to interpret her cooperation as consent, but it was not true consent. I have rarely seen Ethan so furious, and his decision to banish Jaron was a drastic one. It is a harsh punishment, and one he deserves. But we cannot undo what he did."

"I still want to get my hands on him."

"That is something we cannot allow. You would be no match for him, and he could inflict mortal injuries, intentionally or not."

He rested his forehead against the door, and she rested her cheek against his arm. "I understand your anger."

He straightened away from the door and she moved from his side. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes roaming slowly around her face, lingering on her lips, then her eyes. "The changes...in attitude and, uh, morality...they come with conversion?"

"What comes with conversion is a loss of inhibitions, a change in perceptions of morality. That will happen soon, as her body adjusts to the changes."

"Which can take weeks."

She nodded. "Or longer. There is no way to predict how long it will take."

He held up his hands, which were shaking. "I don't know how to deal with this."

She took his shaking hands in her steady ones. "I understand. I truly do. Would you like me to prepare something that will help you relax?"

He hesitated before finally nodding. He needed rest to clear his mind, and he needed a clear mind to handle breaking this news to Eames. She squeezed his arm. "I will be right back."

He watched her walk away before he went into the bedroom.

* * *

Summer returned ten minutes later with a cup of hot liquid. He was sitting on the arm of a recliner, bouncing his leg and staring at the wall. His eyes shifted to her when she came into the room. She handed him the cup and said, "You can sense her."

He looked puzzled, and she motioned at the wall, explaining, "Her room is two doors that way. I checked on her—she is still sleeping soundly."

He took a drink from the cup. The taste and smell were both familiar. "Have I had this before?"

She nodded. "After the shooting and after your battle with Marcellus, I used the same herb mixture, only stronger, to help you rest so you could heal."

"It's effective?"

"Very."

"Any other effects than sedation?"

"As with anything that sedates, there are other mild effects, but none that will last."

He finished off the brew and handed her the cup. "Rest well," she said as she moved toward the door.

"Summer..." She stopped and looked at him. "Would you mind staying? Unless you have something else to do..."

She set the empty cup on the dresser near the door. "I will stay with you."

He moved away from the chair, offering the seat to her while he paced restlessly. He said, "I feel...powerless. She didn't want this, and she's going to blame me for it."

"Why would you say that?"

"Jaron converted her because of me. How can it not be my fault?"

"Robert, you did not ask Jaron to convert her. He did that of his own volition and he alone is responsible. Alex is a reasonable person. She will understand that."

"Eventually, maybe. But when she's angry, she's not reasonable."

"That troubles you."

"I don't like her being mad at me."

"You are sensitive, especially to her."

He shrugged. "Of course I am. She's important to me."

She watched him pace. Gradually, his agitation began to ease. After about twenty minutes of watching him, she saw subtle signs that the brew she gave him was starting to work. "Come, sit on the bed," she coaxed.

She watched as he paced for another minute or so before he did as she asked and sat on the edge of the bed. She got up from the chair and sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. "She will accept what has happened," she promised.

"She has no choice," he said bitterly.

"Once she has fully transitioned, things will be very different for her."

The thought of that made him very uncomfortable. "I don't know how I feel about that. Suppose...suppose she feels differently...about me?"

Summer's heart went out to him; his insecurities were very real to him. He truly feared losing her. "Had you been converted, do you think you would have changed your feelings toward her?"

"I have no frame of reference to answer that. I don't know."

"Tell me what you think, what you feel."

"At this point, I feel...I feel that nothing can change how I feel toward her. But I have never experienced anything like this."

"And even under normal circumstances, you worry about losing her."

He looked at the floor, and she felt his sorrow as he nodded.

"Why?" she softly asked.

"It's the way things go for me. Sooner or later, everyone leaves. I...expect it, but that doesn't make it any easier, especially when I get attached. I try not to because it's just that much harder when they leave, but...it happens sometimes."

"And you have become attached to her."

"Very."

"But you still think she is going to leave you?"

"Eventually, yes."

"You are bonded," she insisted. "Her conversion will not change that."

He rubbed his knee for lack of something to do with his free hand. "The bond can be broken, can't it?"

She hesitated before answering, "It can, but not easily."

Her words did not reassure him, and she could sense that. In a tone of quiet grief, he said, "This may just be enough to send her off in search of someone better."

Summer had never felt the power of a bond between two people before, but she felt it now, and she had no doubt it was equally strong for Eames. She was at a loss, however, for a way to reassure him. "Trust me," she implored. The words, she felt, were inadequate, but they were all she had at the moment.

He looked at her. There was something very different about looking into Summer's eyes. When he met her eyes, he felt reassured. For the first time in his life, he felt understood without being judged, loved without being censured. "I do trust you."

She studied his face. "Trust does not come easily to you."

"It never has."

Releasing his hand, she caressed the side of his face. Comforted, he leaned into her touch. "Lay down," she said softly, gently pushing him down by the shoulders.

He did not resist. Her hand rested on his chest, and he stifled a yawn. "Don't fight it," she whispered.

He laid his hand over hers. "Thank you."

With a smile, she rubbed his chest. He closed his eyes, a gesture of trust.

She did not move until she was certain he was asleep. Leaning down, she softly kissed him. Running her hand over his hair, she rose and crossed the room to the door. Looking back, she softly sighed.

"If only it were another time," she whispered, and she left the room.

* * *

Well after sunset, Summer returned to the room where Goren slept. She watched him sleep for a moment, reluctant to wake him, but Eames was awake and agitated. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook his shoulder. "Robert, wake up."

He groaned softly and slowly opened his eyes, looking at her as he struggled to focus. She waited until he was more fully awake and she said, "She is awake."

He immediately became tense, and got up slowly, still a little groggy. "Coffee?" she offered.

He shook his head. "I'm okay. I...I need to face her and get this over with. She...She needs to know."

"Yes, she does, but this may not be the best time to tell her."

"So tell me when a good time would be."

"Daylight, when she is herself."

"I have to try," he insisted stubbornly.

"You can try, if you want."

"Do you think you can, uh, maybe..." He trailed off, not sure how to phrase his request.

"Help you?"

"Well, uh, maybe just...be there."

She nodded. "I will go with you, and if you need me, I will help, if I can."

He seemed to relax a little bit. "Thank you."

Summer gave him a patient smile, waiting until he was ready, and they left the room.

Two doors down from the room where he'd spent the day, Goren placed his hand on the knob and opened the door slowly, stepping into the dark room. "Alex?"

He was caught off guard when she grabbed him, kissing him hard. Behind him, Summer whispered into his ear, "I will be ready when you are."

She closed the door, leaving them alone. Goren tried to pull away, to interrupt her, but she would have none of it. He wasn't used to her being so assertive, but Summer's words echoed in his head. _She will...be overwhelmed by needs she cannot control. She will turn to you first, then Ethan. _

Him, then Ethan. Then...whoever was willing. But...she would not remember. He was conflicted, until she began to nuzzle his throat. The part of him that was denizen overcame the part that was mortal and he reacted strongly to her advances. Her excitement increased and he gave in to her.

* * *

Ethan stepped out of his room, noticing Summer in the hallway. "Lurking, my love?"

"Not hardly. Robert believes he is going to tell Alex what happened and he asked for my support."

He took her arm. "Does he realize he will not be able to talk to her about anything after dark?"

"Not yet, but he will soon."

Ethan laughed. "Come with me to eat. We will bring them food later."

Summer kissed his cheek and they went down to the dining room. After their meal, Ethan left for the club and Summer spent time organizing her herbs, making a list of the ones she was running low on. She left the mansion soon after to get what she needed to replenish her supply.

* * *

Ethan returned from the club as Summer was putting away her herbs. He stepped up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, kissing the side of her neck. Turning, she slid her arms around his neck. "How is your club?"

"Everything is fine. How are things upstairs?"

"I have not bothered them. Robert knows where to find me if he needs me."

"She cannot control herself," he said. "And he is only part denizen. Have you checked on him?"

"I did after I returned with my herbs. They were resting."

"You still sense his emotions?"

"Strongly, but they are muted when he sleeps and it is easier for me to tune them out."

He tried to hide his concern, but it was impossible for him to hide anything from her. "What do you sense now?" he asked.

She frowned deeply, concentrating. "Nothing."

Ethan stepped back from her, mirroring the concern he saw on her face. "How often have you been unable to sense him?"

"Only once, after Marcellus."

"Normally, she would never harm him..."

Summer felt her heart rate increase. "But she doesn't have control over her desires. She doesn't know what she is doing."

Ethan's concern began to rise as well. "He is mortal, and she does not realize the difference."

Summer was already halfway to the stairs. He ran to catch up to her and they hurried up to the second level. Summer opened the door and rushed into the bedroom. They were laying in the bed, sleeping. Eames was beginning to stir, turning toward him. Summer approached the bed, reaching out to touch him. His normally warm skin was cool, and his face was pale. "Ethan, I need help. We need to get him to his room and I need my herbs."

He hurried from the room. Jeremy and another denizen—a large blond man named Corbin—entered the room soon after, and Ethan joined them a few moments later. "I put your herbs and supplies in his room. Jeremy will bring you water after we move him."

Eames was more alert and Summer motioned to him. "Ethan, you have to take care of her. If she takes any more blood from him, he will die."

Ethan nodded and motioned at Jeremy and Corbin. "Summer will show you the room we have given him."

Gently, they lifted Goren from the bed and carried him out of the room. Summer turned in the doorway and looked at Ethan. He gave her a tight smile and nodded. She closed the door.

She entered the bedroom as Jeremy tucked the blanket around Goren's chest. "I will bring you hot water."

"Thank you, Jeremy."

Alone with Goren, she quickly unpacked her things, talking to him as she worked. "I should not have stopped giving you blood," she whispered. "I did not realize she was taking so much." She arranged her supplies. "I am sorry. I should have known. You have not fully recovered from Marcellus. How could I have been so careless?" Shaking her head slowly, she measured herbs into a cup. "You...bewilder me."

When Jeremy brought the water, she asked him to stay for a moment to help her. While Jeremy eased Goren up and supported his shoulders, Summer managed to coax him to drink from the cup. She felt reassured when he took the liquid. Jeremy eased him back onto the pillows. "Thank you, Jeremy," she said.

"Will he be all right?"

"Yes."

Jeremy hesitated before saying, "This one attracts trouble." His voice held equal measures of respect and affection. "Perhaps you should convert him before one of these incidents finishes him off."

"He still must consent, Jeremy, and he has not."

"Even though she is denizen now?"

"He is a complicated man."

"Evidently." He met Summer's eyes. "Denizen or not, we consider him one of us, those of us who know him."

Summer smiled at him, something to which he was still adjusting. She never used to smile. "Yes, I know. Give him time."

He left the room and she was alone with Goren. He softly groaned and began to shiver. She covered him with another blanket, but he was still cold. After a few moments, she pulled off her shirt and slid into the bed with him, pressing her naked torso against his. He drew warmth from her body, and he slept.

* * *

A gentle voice disturbed his sleep, but he resisted waking. Softly, she coaxed him, supporting his head with her body as she touched his lips with the rim of a cup. "Drink," she urged.

Reluctantly, he drew himself from the cocoon of sleep long enough to drink the contents of the cup. After that she let him go back to sleep.

* * *

Summer remained with him through the night. After the second cup of her healing brew, she felt confident he wouldn't need more, but she remained with him, keeping him warm and comfortable.

As dawn approached, he began to waken on his own. Still half-asleep, he pulled the warm body beside him closer, seeking her warmth, but something was different. Slowly, he opened his eyes. "Summer?"

"Relax," she whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Confused."

"That's all?"

His mind was cloudy and he felt shaky. "I don't know. I little odd, I guess. Kind of, uh, fuzzy. Why? What happened?"

She slid from the bed, and he shivered. He watched her as she pulled on her shirt, wondering why he was no longer with Alex and why Summer had been in the bed with him. She smoothed the front of her shirt. "I made a mistake," she said, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She was not used to making mistakes, and it troubled her that this mistake had caused him harm. It was the closest to regret she could feel as a denizen. This man, this mortal, had resurrected her emotions, but he also stirred in her so much more, and she was not used to it. She sat on the bed, her hip resting against his side, unsettled.

He sensed her unrest and took her hand as he pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. "Is Alex okay?"

"She is fine. Ethan is with her."

"Ethan? Does that have something to do with why I'm back in here?"

"If you had remained in there with her, she would have killed you."

He frowned. "Alex? No. I can't believe that."

"She did not mean to harm you, but that does not change the fact that she did."

"How did she harm me? And why...why were you in bed with me?"

Summer leaned closer, meeting his eyes. Though the room was dark, he had no trouble seeing her. Softly, she said, "I made a terrible mistake."

His brow furrowed. "Did you...sleep with me?"

"Do you think I did?"

"I...I hope you didn't."

"Why?"

"Because I have no memory of it if you did."

She smiled a warm smile of deep affection. "I did not sleep with you, but if I had, I assure you, I would not have called it a mistake. I was in bed with you to warm you."

"I don't understand."

"You lost a great deal of blood." She paused. "I have been so anxious to reassure you about Alex, to convince you that she did not betray you, that I failed to realize that with you as her only lover, she would take more blood than you can give. You have no way to replenish what was lost, not as quickly as you need to. Right now, she cannot control herself and she is insatiable. She would have continued to take from you, and she would have unintentionally killed you had Ethan and I not intervened."

He studied her. "Summer, I'm getting tired of surprises."

"I know and I am sorry. You present so many new situations. Normally, conversion is not an issue since the one who does the converting completes the entire process. We will not allow Jaron further access to her, so another must complete what he began. I sometimes forget you are still mortal. Had you been fully mortal, it would have been too late by the time I realized my oversight. Once again, the denizen in you saved your life, but you cannot allow her to take more blood from you. Ethan must take over and get her through this final phase."

When he looked away, she reached out and touched his chin, drawing his face back toward her. "It's the only way. You would not survive. Darling, this has nothing at all to do with love. It will not matter to her that Ethan is with her, not until her conversion is complete. Then she can choose her lovers. Then it will matter."

"So in the meantime, what do I do? Avoid her?"

"Of course not. But you must not allow her to love you because she cannot control what she does. She must take blood, and you cannot lose more. I have given you enough to help you recover, but I cannot give you more."

"Is it safe for me to see her?"

"The sun is up. You will be safe."

He shook his head slowly. "I can't get used to thinking of her as a threat."

"It is a temporary situation. She will be through this soon, and then she will be fine."

He cast his eyes downward. "Fine is a relative term."

"Look at me."

Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. "She will be fully denizen. A whole new world will be open to her."

His mind was clearing and he was feeling stronger. He looked down at his hands in his lap. _A whole new world_...but would she want him to be part of it? Mortal or denizen, would she want to be with him? Could she forgive him for what was done to her? Would it be easier for her to continue to love him if he were a denizen, like she was? "If I, uh, choose to let you convert me, how long would it take?"

She felt a spark of hope. This was the first time he'd mentioned being converted. "A few weeks, plus the time for the final phase."

"She could have no role in my conversion?"

"Unfortunately, no. It will be several years before she can participate in any aspect of the conversion of a mortal."

"So...you would be the one to complete the entire process?"

"The denizen blood in you is mine. I have to be the one. Alex's situation is unique because Jaron was removed. I know of no other instance where that has ever happened. I was wrong to allow you to remain with her during this final transition. It should have been Ethan all along; I should have known better. The one good thing about her situation is that Ethan is an older, more powerful denizen than Jaron, and he has the benefit of having ties of affection with her. She is less likely to seek another because she likes Ethan. He will be good for her."

He still would not look at her. "I have no problem with Ethan, but Alex might."

"As a denizen, it will not bother her."

She felt his distress, and she reached out to him, seeking to soothe his turbulent emotions. There was little else she could do for him. Softly, she said, "I wish I could help you. It is difficult to understand if you are not one of us."

Finally, he looked up. Summer had changed a great deal since they'd first met. Since recovering her emotions, her interactions with him had become increasingly warm and tender. His own feelings for her were growing stronger. They were not as passionate or as deep as what he felt for Eames, but he drew great comfort from her. "Maybe someday I'll understand."

"All you have to do is say the word."

He was overwhelmed by sorrow and regret. If Eames had not expressed such distaste at the idea of him becoming denizen, he would already be one of them. Her vehemence still made him hesitate. Somehow, he could feel Summer's willingness to complete the process, and he wanted it more than he ever had, but he still held back, because of Eames.

Summer sensed the battle that raged within him, but she was powerless to help him, beyond her attempts to reach out to him emotionally. She tried to help him find balance with limited success.

"Give me twenty minutes," she said. "I will take you to her when I return."

He nodded and she withdrew from him. Watching her leave the room, he _felt_ her absence once she was gone. It was an odd sensation, and it puzzled him. Pondering the sudden turn of events that made the relationships in his life even more complicated, he got lost in his thoughts waiting for Summer to return.

* * *

**A/N: Up next-breaking the news to Eames.  
**


	32. Another Denizen Problem

Eames woke slowly, stretching languidly as she yawned. Turning onto her side, she was surprised to find the other side of the bed empty. She looked around the dark room, easily able to make out everything from the chair in the corner to the pattern on the quilt that covered her. For a brief second, she wished there were windows, so she would be able to tell what time of day it was. _Afternoon_, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered. It was late afternoon, though she had no idea how she knew that.

She didn't dwell on it. Sliding from the bed, she again stretched her naked body, enjoying the cool air that coiled around her. Again, she wondered where Goren had gone, and she felt a thrum of desire course through her body, which made her smile. She would have to venture out and find him. He would be happy to satisfy her needs. He always was. That was one of the few good things about his part-denizen nature—he was always ready to meet her needs. Lately she seemed to want him a lot more than she usually did, but she attributed that to being in Ethan's mansion. She associated him and his people with sex and desire, so it seemed logical that she would experience an increase in her own desires.

She took her time dressing, noting every sensation as she pulled her clothes onto her body. Why would Goren have left the room? He didn't usually do that. She should have noticed when he got out of bed. Had she been that exhausted? They hadn't done much of anything to cause her to be so tired. But she wasn't tired now. She was just...wow, she really needed to find him.

It was close to sunset...how did she know that? And why did it matter? She smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt and softly hummed. Why was she feeling sooo...?

She spun toward the door when it opened, her feelings tripping over each other in anticipation. When Summer entered the room, she was disappointed, but her body still hummed pleasantly. She didn't feel as much anger and resentment toward Summer as she usually felt. She even smiled. "Hi, Summer."

"Hello, Alex. How do you feel?"

"Fine. How are you?"

Summer smiled, and Eames liked seeing that. She had a really nice smile. "I am fine."

"Where is Bobby?"

"Nearby. I will bring him to see you."

Eames' smile widened, even though a hint of resentment tickled the back of her mind. Why was he with Summer? The thought vanished before it fully formed. "I want to see him," she confirmed.

Summer hesitated for a brief moment. "I will be right back," she promised.

Eames watched her leave the room, rubbing her hands up and down her shirt again. "Hurry," she whispered. She _really_ needed to see him.

* * *

Goren pulled on his sweat pants and looked around for his shirt, but he couldn't find it. They must have not thought to grab it when they brought him in there from Alex's room. He had mixed feelings about having a separate room from her, but he trusted Summer's judgment. If Eames was a danger to him, then separate rooms were a necessity.

Eames was denizen. He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his hand through his hair. She was not going to take that news well.

He turned at the waist when the door opened. With a tender smile, Summer crossed the room and handed him a shirt. "Alex is awake."

He pulled on the shirt, which was not his. "You're sure it's okay for me to be near her?"

"It is close to sunset, but it should be all right. I will stay with you."

"Is that necessary?"

"She will be unpredictable. Her denizen urges begin to waken once the sun goes down. You have a window of opportunity, but it will be brief. She wants you, but you cannot let her have her way."

He looked at his hands, unhappy. "I don't like this, Summer. Not at all. I...I'm having a very hard time reconciling all of this."

"I know. Just take it one step at a time."

"And when I stumble?"

"I will be there to catch you."

He looked up at her sharply, surprised by her response. _I will be there..._ No one had ever told him that before, although Eames had proven herself willing to try. For the first time, he felt absolute faith that someone really would be there when he faltered. In that moment his affection for—and attachment to—Summer grew deeper. She sat beside him and gently took his hand. "Are you ready?"

His emotions surged suddenly as he closed his hand around hers. He didn't quite know what to do with the tangled mess that assaulted him.

Summer was shaken by the intensity of what he felt. Her free hand shook as she shifted her position and placed her hand on his chest. He turned toward her, brushing his fingers over her ear and through her hair. "I...I don't..."

He stopped, hearing the tremor in his voice. She closed her eyes, concentrating on him, on reaching out to him and helping him find the stability he needed to do what had to be done. His eyes closed also, and he let her connect with him, opening himself in a way he never had before. A sense of calm washed over him, the shakiness he felt inside eased and he relaxed. He opened his eyes, much closer to Summer than he expected to be. His eyes locked with hers and he didn't want to move away.

Summer slowly eased away from him, standing. "Are you ready now?"

He was still confused and uncertain, but he was calmer. He did not release her hand. "I'm...better."

"Then, come. She is waiting for you."

He didn't move. "That isn't necessarily a good thing."

She squeezed his hand. "Postponing the inevitable will not change the outcome."

"Maybe not, but it will delay my involvement in the outcome."

"I still do not think it will be as tragic as you do."

Reluctantly, he released her hand. "You don't know her like I do. Let's go."

He motioned toward the door, letting her go first. She wanted so much to reassure him, and it distressed her that she was unable to do so. She reached out as she moved past him, lightly grazing his ribs with her fingers, and he followed her out of the room.

* * *

Eames was waiting for him, and her face brightened when he came into the room. She didn't even notice Summer. "Where did you go?" she asked.

"I was in another room for a little while. How do you feel?"

She approached him, placing her hands on his chest. "I feel fine. I can't believe I slept so well that I didn't notice when you got up."

Gently, he placed his hands on her hips. "I...I didn't want to leave."

"Then why did you?"

Her hands moved in circles before she slid them over his shoulders and around his neck. His mind tripped. "It-It wasn't by choice. A-Alex, s-something, uh, something happened."

"Uh-huh," she murmured, her mouth inches from his. She had not heard a word he'd said.

"Al-Alex..."

She softly hummed, a vacant acknowledgment. Her lips brushed over his and his mind began to fog over with desire. His tongue eased past her lips, grazing along the fangs that slid into place in her mouth. _Don't let her...Don't...Don't let her...what?_

He barely noticed when she slid from his arms and he was guided out of the room. He trembled and fell back against the wall opposite her door. Slowly, he slid to the floor, covering his head with his arms. He didn't know how much time passed before he became aware of Summer, kneeling beside him and stroking his hair. "Wh-What the hell happened?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"I am so sorry," she said. "I thought there was time, but it was too close to sunset."

"But...I...I lost it in there. I...I couldn't think." He looked up at the door. "Is...Is she okay?"

"Perfectly. Ethan is in there with her now. We will have to talk to her in the morning, well after sunrise, when she is least likely to be overcome by the effects of the transition. That is when she will be most like herself."

"How did she...do that? Cloud my mind, I mean. You...You never do that."

"I can control it. She cannot. Not many denizens have that ability, and those that do received it during conversion from the one who changed them. She got it from Jaron. She will learn to control it."

He dropped his head back against the wall. "This just gets better and better," he muttered sarcastically.

She sat beside him and held out her hand, offering comfort, which was exactly what he needed. Silently, he took her hand and leaned over, resting his head on her shoulder. He still felt the aftereffects of the desperate need Eames had projected onto him, but his distress at what was happening chased it away. He tightened his grip on Summer's hand and closed his eyes.

* * *

Ethan straightened his shirt and smoothed his hand over his unruly hair as he stepped out of the bedroom. He met Summer as she came out of Goren's room. "The sun is up," he said unnecessarily. "She is resting."

"He sleeps."

"With assistance?"

"A little."

"What happened to him?"

"She has Jaron's ability to touch minds. She overwhelmed him completely."

"So you had to help him deal with that?"

"No. His distress over her handled that. I would have preferred to help him, but he declined the offer."

"The mortal part of him causes him more distress than the situation warrants."

She nodded. "I know. He worries over her reaction to everything that has happened, and that does not help him at all."

"Her initial reaction will be strong, maybe even overpowering, but she will quickly adapt and accept what has happened. It's a non-issue."

She rested back against the wall beside Goren's door. "We have no experience with this, Ethan. It's so very rare to have to deal with a conversion without consent."

"Daniel dealt with it once."

"Yes—five hundred years ago. He'd only been denizen for a little over fifty years. And Philip...it has been nearly a millennium since his conversion and he only knows of three or four times it has happened."

Ethan leaned forward and softly kissed her. "They were fine, Summer, and she will be fine as well. She is among people who care for her very much. She will adapt."

"And Robert?"

"When you convert him, all will be well."

"Ethan, he has not yet consented."

"He will, Summer. Give him time. She is denizen and so are you. He will consent."

She smiled sadly. "He is not so predictable."

"You will convince him, of that I have no doubt. I am going to sleep for a while. Wake her around noon. He should be able to safely interact with her then."

She watched him walk down the hall and turn into his room. She wished she could be as certain as he was about Goren. After some hesitation, she turned and went back into his room.

* * *

Goren turned over in his bed and slowly opened his eyes. He stifled a yawn as he looked around the room. Summer leaned forward in her chair. "Feel better?"

He looked at her sleepily. "What did you give me?"

"Something to help you relax and sleep."

"It worked."

She smiled. "Yes, it did. Do you feel better?"

He nodded. "I do. How is she?"

"She is fine. Sleeping. We are going to wake her as soon as you are ready, so it will be safe for you to talk to her."

"You said I would be safe before."

"It was too close to sunset. Now it is noon, far enough away from sunrise and sunset for you to be safe. But I will stay with you anyway, just in case."

"In case of what?"

"In case you need me...for anything."

He yawned again and reached out to take her hand. He drew it toward him and kissed her palm. She closed her eyes momentarily. "You should...get ready."

Releasing her hand, he nodded. Slowly, he sat up. "Okay. I'm ready."

She laughed softly. So many things about him were endearing to her. "Then let's go see her."

He hesitated for a moment, then stood up and they left the room.

* * *

Eames was still sleeping when they entered the room. Summer stopped at the foot of the bed as he moved toward the headboard. He brushed Eames' hair back off her forehead. "Alex?"

She stirred and he called her again. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes. "Hey," she smiled. "Where have you been?"

"I've been around, waiting to talk to you."

She reached her arms toward the headboard and her toes toward the footboard in a full body stretch. Patting the bed beside her, she motioned at him. "Come on. Climb in with me."

"I...I can't."

"Why not?"

"Something's come up, Alex. There's a, a problem I have to discuss with you."

"Another denizen problem?"

"Of sorts."

She slowly sat up, facing him as she dangled her legs over the side of the bed. She crossed her arms, annoyed. "Why is it every time they're around we have problems?" She looked him over, noting that the shirt he wore was not one of his. "You seem to be fine. So why are we still here? Let's go home. You can finish any recuperating you have to do there. I'll take care of you."

_I'll take care of you... _His heart lurched and he laid his hand on her thigh. "I...I love you," he said softly, hoping it would not be the last time she wanted to hear those words from him.

She reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. She placed her palms flat against his chest. "I love you, too," she replied, leaning closer to him. "Let's go home."

He was tempted, wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep in his own bed with her. If they did that, however, it would become his deathbed. She seemed her normal self right now, but at night, all bets were off.

His eyes slowly traveled over her face, finally coming to rest on her eyes. Gone were the honey brown orbs flecked with gold he knew so well. In their place were the golden yellow irises of a denizen's eyes, similar to his own. The major difference was that his eyes would continue to change, transitioning back to their normal deep brown color. Hers would remain golden. As much as he hated to admit it, the color suited her, as it did Summer. He placed his hand over hers and struggled not to stumble over his words. "Uhm, we, we can't go just yet. Something, uh, something happened...and we...we need to stay here for awhile longer."

She frowned and looked at him more closely, noticing the marks on his throat, marks she had no idea she was capable of making. Her hand slid from his chest and she glared at Summer, acknowledging her presence for the first time. Her gold eyes blazed with anger and suspicion. "Did she take you too far?"

He watched her expression change with her emotions as she looked back at him, her eyes wandering over his face. He touched the marks on his throat. "Summer didn't make these marks."

She looked skeptical. "If Summer didn't, then who did? Do you have a new denizen admirer?"

He had no idea how to continue, drawing a blank as he tried to find a way to gently break the news to her. Bracing himself, he softly said, "Uh, no, not a new one. Alex, you gave these to me."

She stared at him, uncertain. "I..._I_ did? How is that possible?"

Again, he was at a loss. Not sure how to interpret his silence, she suddenly shoved him away from her, jumping off the bed and backing away from him. "What are you saying, Goren?" she demanded with a tremor in her voice.

He watched her with a pained expression, still unable to find the words he needed. But Eames was always good at adding up the evidence and drawing logical conclusions. She did that now, but she was missing vital pieces of the puzzle, pieces she needed to draw the right conclusion. She glared at Summer again. "You..." she accused.

Following her train of thought with little effort, he immediately interrupted her angry accusation. "No, Alex. Summer had nothing to do with it."

"Ethan?"

"No."

"Then...what the hell happened?" Panic was beginning to mix with her anger and suspicion and her eyes grew wide. "What happened to me? How the hell could I have made those marks?"

Her voice was shrill as she fought the fear that held her in its grip. He started toward her but she backed away, into the wall. "Don't come any closer! Just...tell me what happened!"

"Alex..."

He felt himself floundering under her anger and her fear. He couldn't predict how she would react; a dozen scenarios scrambled through his head. None of them ended well.

"Goren," she snapped, anger battling her fear. "What did they do?"

"It wasn't them. It was...someone else. We never met him."

"And he...did something to me? Who is he? What did he do?"

Her fear and panic filled the room, and he knew they couldn't put it off any longer. It wasn't fair to her. Summer had come to the same conclusion. Softly, she said, "A denizen named Jaron did this to you."

"Did _what_ to me?"

Bracing himself, Goren softly said, "He converted you."

She stared at him in silence, stunned. Then she shook her head. "That's impossible. I would never have let that happen."

"It did happen," Summer said gently.

"I would have noticed," Eames insisted. She looked at Goren. "_You_ would have noticed. You never miss _anything_!"

She was right, and he had no good explanation. "I...I didn't know," he said lamely.

Eames glared at Summer. "No one is converted without their consent—or was that a lie?"

"It was not a lie."

"I never consented! So how could it have happened? Is this a joke?"

"You know me better than that," he answered. "It's not a joke."

"Then tell me how it happened!"

Goren shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. Her anger had him very much on edge. "He...clouded your mind and made you...receptive to him."

She shuddered at his words and her eyes flashed angrily. "He did _what_?"

Goren moved a step closer, but she held up her arm in a threatening gesture and he stayed where he was. Keeping his voice even, he answered, "He manipulated you...your mind and your will. He, uh, he made you want it. He made you want _him_."

Eames trembled, repulsed, every muscle in her body taut. "Mind control? He..._violated_ my mind and my body?" she erupted, shouting at them. Then she turned on Summer. "And you—you allowed it? You both _allowed_ it?"

"It's not her fault," Goren said, drawing her anger to him. "Summer and Ethan knew nothing about it."

"Did you?"

"Of course not."

"You wake up if my breathing changes! How did you miss this!"

He shook his head. "I...I don't know. I _didn't_ know. I..." His distress was palpable. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're _sorry_? I went to sleep normal and woke up a-a-a _monster_ and that's all you have to say?"

Goren frowned. "Monster?" he repeated. "You think...How can you...Eames?"

"What would you call me?" she challenged.

He shook his head. "Not a monster," he insisted.

"So where were you when he was doing this to me?"

"Alex, this didn't happen overnight. It wasn't a one shot deal."

Words he had intended as reassurance had the opposite effect. Looking back and forth between Goren and Summer, Eames trembled with impotent rage, not knowing who to direct it toward. By default, Goren won that battle. "So how long _did_ it take, and how could you...why-why _did_ you let him do...do _this_ to me?"

He struggled against her anger, fighting to find the right words to answer her, then wondering if the right words even existed. He looked at Summer for the answer to Eames' first question. Quietly, Summer said, "Apparently, Jaron began the process not long after Robert was shot."

Eames' expression was one of disbelief. Her anger grew and she turned on him. "So you...you...you _let_ him do this!"

Goren shook his head. "No! Alex...I...I didn't...I didn't know..."

Her voice shook. "You were with me! You never noticed another man...doing things...to me!"

"Alex..."

"Has she converted you?" she challenged, her dislike of Summer evident in the tone of her voice.

"N-No. I wanted to talk it over with you."

"So you get a discussion and I have no choice?"

Tired of her unfounded accusations, his anger flared. "Choice? What choice did you give me? Did you ever consider what I wanted? All that mattered to you was that I did what you wanted!"

"So why did you tell her no?" she shouted.

In the face of her challenge, he stopped. The anger faded from his eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared. Quietly, he said, "It never mattered to me what was fair. All that mattered was making you happy, and the best way I knew to do that was to let you have your way."

Summer watched them, overwhelmed by Eames' fury. Yet even through the storm cloud of rage Eames was projecting, Summer felt Goren's pain and guilt at his partner's accusations. She also felt the dark cloud of depression that accompanied his surrender.

When he said nothing more and Eames continued to glare at him, Summer said, "There is no way to undo what was done. All we can do is get you through the final phase and accept you as one of us. We will help you to adjust."

"Final phase? What is that?"

Calmly, Summer explained, "It is what you are now experiencing. Your body and mind are adjusting to the changes. During the day, when you are awake, you may notice no difference, aside from sensitivity to light and accelerated healing. Most of your adjusting takes place at night, but you will not remember the things you do, not until you are through this phase."

"What do you mean, I won't remember?"

Summer motioned toward Goren. "Do you remember biting him?"

Some of Eames' anger was soothed by Summer's soft tone. She looked at him, but he was looking down at the floor. "I never bit him."

"You have, every time you have loved him since Jaron eased you past the point of no return. It is a need you cannot contain or control. That is why you must stay here until this phase is past."

"I can't _control_ myself?"

"Not during this final transition. Once it's past, everything will be as it was, only different."

Frustrated, Eames raised her voice again. "That makes no sense!"

Summer was unable to project herself to calm Eames the way she could with Goren. Her only recourse was her words, the tone and manner with which she delivered them. "Some things will be noticeably different, but many things will remain the same. You are the same person, Alex, only now you are denizen."

"But I don't want to be denizen! I don't want him to be denizen!"

"And that is why he has refused."

Eames glared at him. "That's not the only reason," she snapped, refusing to be the one reason he said no to something he wanted.

He finally looked at her. "You're wrong, Eames," he answered in a tone she had never heard him use before. "That is the only reason. You didn't want me to do it. And that's why Jaron did what he did. He thought if he converted you, I would then consent. He was wrong."

"_What_?"

He realized too late his mistake, though he wasn't sure which part of what he said set her off. He had only wanted to be honest with her; she had the right to know. But he had just given her the fuel to blame him. "Al-Alex..."

"Get out of here." He hesitated until she pointed at the door. "Both of you!"

Summer lightly touched his arm and he reluctantly moved away from Eames. When they got to the door, he hesitated. She was standing by the wall, her arms wrapped around her stomach. "Alex," he said, trying one more time to reach out to her.

"Go!"

Reluctantly, he followed Summer from the room. Ethan was in the hallway, waiting for them. "Is it safe to assume it did not go well?" he asked.

Summer knew he'd heard the yelling, but her full attention was not on him. Goren walked away from them, toward his room. Ethan called after him, "Robert, when the sun goes down, she will be different."

"I don't want her to be different." He turned and looked at the two denizens, his pain clearly evident in his expression. "We didn't ask for this."

Turning he went into his room. Summer watched him until the door closed. "He was right. She blames him."

"She will get past that."

"Perhaps. But I am not certain he will."

"Once he is denizen, he will."

"If he consents. That is far from a given, Ethan. He wanted to discuss his conversion with her, which was perhaps a lapse in judgment on his part. That decision only made her angrier."

"Her anger will be gone once the sun sets."

"And it will return with the sun."

"How did she react when she found out about the harm she did?"

"She doesn't know about that yet. He never brought it up."

"Why?"

"He will not use her actions against her, no matter the edge it will give him in an argument. He reacted to her in anger only once, when she accused him of having a choice when she did not. He does not feel she has given him a choice. Her anger makes it difficult to reason with her, and she lashes out at him."

Ethan sighed. "Once the transition is over, her anger will be gone for good. Then he may feel he has the freedom to make his decision." He looked at the closed door. "Perhaps she will talk to me."

"Good luck."

"Go to him. You are the only one he responds to, aside from her. Try to soothe his pain."

"I am not sure that's possible."

"If anyone can do it, my love, you can," he assured her.

He squeezed her arm, stepped to the door and knocked. Opening the door, he stepped into the room.

Summer watched the door close. Ethan could not feel the depth of Goren's pain like she could. There was no way to soothe that, but she could offer him comfort and company. The last thing he needed right now was to be alone.

* * *

**A/N: And in the next chapter we begin the path to acceptance...and healing.**


	33. A Voice of Reason

Eames was sitting in the chair in the corner when the door opened and Ethan came into the room. She grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the table beside her and threw it at him. He ducked and it bounced off the wall behind him, striking him in the back of the shoulder. He laughed softly. "You are quite the fireball."

"Shut up and get out of here, Ethan."

"I must talk to you."

"Suppose I don't feel like talking?"

"You will talk to me."

She glared at him. "You're going to use your Jedi mind tricks to get me to talk?"

Again he laughed, genuinely amused. "I assure you, I am no Jedi, and my mind stays in my head where it belongs. I don't have the ability to project my will onto others. However, it appears that you do."

"What are you talking about?"

"You are more Jedi than I am, darling." He sat on the edge of the bed. "First, allow me to apologize to you on behalf of Jaron."

"No. He can do his own damn apologizing."

Ethan shook his head. "That won't happen. Jaron is no longer welcome here. My people know it, and they know why. I have spoken to Daniel as well. You will never encounter him. He has been banished from the community that welcomed him as a denizen. It will be difficult for him to find another community to welcome him. Life will be much more difficult for him than it will for you. You will remain among people who care about you. It won't be so bad for you."

"How can you say that? I didn't want this!"

He nodded. "I realize that. Alex, darling, what happened to you is exceedingly rare. The oldest denizen I know is aware of only three or four times a mortal was converted against his will in almost a thousand years. You are special in so many ways. This is just one more."

"I don't want to be special, Ethan. I don't want to be one of you. I just want to go home and live my mortal life and forget all about this nightmare."

"I am truly sorry. There is no way to undo what was done." He paused for a moment. "Summer told me you blame Robert."

"Of course I blame him! You can't tell me he never noticed what was going on!"

"That is exactly what I am telling you. Jaron is no fool. He came to get you when you were not with Robert, or when he was too out of it to respond to your absence. He did not want anyone else to know. That was not Robert's fault."

"So who do I blame?"

"The blame lies with no one but Jaron."

She got to her feet and approached Ethan. She grabbed the front of his shirt in both fists. "I was wronged, Ethan. I want justice."

"And you have it. Once you learn more about us, you will understand the severity of Jaron's punishment. And the Council has not had its say yet, either. Daniel was as infuriated as I was. Our system of justice is effective...much more effective than yours, as you will find out. Violent crimes do not exist among us."

"Tell that to Amy Petrakis."

"That was not a crime. That was an accident. Warren intended no harm to her. He loved her."

She made a sound of disbelief. Ethan cocked his head curiously. "Would you harm Robert?"

"What? Of course not."

"Yet you did."

"What are you talking about? Hurt feelings never harmed anyone."

"I am not talking about any damage you have done to his soul. I am talking about physical harm. Darling, you nearly killed him."

"Ethan, stop with the games."

"This is no game. Summer and I had to save him from you. Had we not intervened, he would have died."

"No. That would never happen!"

"Yet it did. After dark, you have no control over yourself. Your need is insatiable, and we forgot he is not denizen. You took more blood than he could safely give. You would have kept going because you seek only to satisfy your needs, until this final phase is over. You are most dangerous right now. That is one more reason clandestine conversions are forbidden. Your police force would have many more unsolved deaths if we did not keep our new converts under tight control. I think you have plenty of unsolved murders caused by your own people to keep you busy."

Eames backed away from him and sat in the chair. "Is he okay?"

Ethan shrugged. "Physically, he is fine. Summer helped him, and we have been keeping you from him."

"Like an animal?"

"Hardly."

She looked at her hands. "What am I, Ethan? How could I do that to him? Would I really have killed him?"

"Unintentionally, of course, but yes. You would have. If he were denizen, there would be no issue. But he is not, so we must be careful with him. His status as a mortal is also why we could not allow him to go after Jaron. He would have no chance against Jaron, though that would not have stopped him."

"He was upset about this?"

"Of course he was. Could you not tell?"

"Sometimes I don't know what to think about the way he reacts to things. Why didn't he tell me what I did?"

"And cause you grief? He would never do that. I, on the other hand, feel you need to know what happened."

She didn't know whether to believe him or not, but what possible motive could he have for lying to her? That was not Ethan's way. He had always been honest with them. "How long before this _phase_ I'm in is over?"

"That's hard to tell. A few more weeks."

"And he has to avoid me during that time?"

"Yes. You sleep during the hours it would be safe to be with him."

"So why is he still here?"

Ethan studied her, not sure why she was still so angry with Goren. "He is always welcome here, and he may stay as long as he wishes."

"But he can't be with me, so what difference does it make?"

"It makes a difference to him."

She was quiet for a moment. "And he really hasn't asked Summer to finish the job she started?"

"To convert him? No, he has not."

"Why? He wanted it."

"He still does, but he refuses because you asked him to."

She shook her head. "No, I never asked him to refuse. He's a big boy and he can do what he wants."

"Do you honestly think he would risk losing you? Darling, through your reaction to what we are and your repulsion to the idea of him becoming one of us, you sent a clear message that if he were to allow Summer to convert him, he would lose you. That was all he needed to make his decision. He would give that up just to please you."

Eames frowned. "You act like he abandoned some kind of buried treasure."

"For a man like him, what we offer is a treasure of sorts. He bears his burdens heavily, including this one, and he handles his shortcomings with a deep sense of guilt. Those things weight down his soul. As one of us, his soul would be unencumbered."

"Did you explain that to him?"

"He knows."

She frowned. "I know it seems like he knows everything, but he plays a really good bluff."

Ethan's expression was serious. "This is no bluff. He is part denizen. He's had a taste of what we are and what life could be for him if he allowed Summer to finish his conversion. He doesn't simply have an idea of what he's turned down. He knows exactly what he has refused."

"But...he never even tried to debate with me."

"Darling, consider how you reacted to the mere idea of him becoming one of us. Recall your reaction to the changing of his eyes, to the fact that he is just part denizen. How many times have you accused Summer of converting him? How much of your anger and suspicion have you directed toward us?"

She looked away from him, beginning to consider that perhaps she had not been fair to Goren—or to Ethan and his people. She had judged them harshly, nailing them with mostly false accusations from the start. Yet, they responded with only kindness. Summer had saved Goren's life, not once, but three times. The incident with Marcellus seemed to make him some kind of hero to the denizens. Well, sure, why not? After all, that's what he was, even among mere mortals. He was the one who put his life on the line by stepping between gunmen and the targets of their rage, their insecurity or their instability. He was the one who drew the bead of a loaded gun until others could be gotten to safety. He was the brilliant negotiator who talked unstable and dangerous suspects away from the proverbial ledge. Maybe he had taken on Marcellus as a matter of fate rather than choice, but he rose up to the challenge and now Marcellus was gone forever. A hero, once again, in the clothes of a common and modest mortal man.

"Is there any way I can talk to him?"

"Of course, if you wish. But, darling, you can not make love to him."

"Why not?"

"Because of what you are and what he is not. You _must_ take blood as part of the sexual act. That is not a choice you have. You have already come close to taking too much. It will take weeks for him to recover from that, even with Summer's blood. The risk to his life is too great."

She looked at the floor, frowning. "So, whose job is it to get me through this?"

He smiled, slightly bowing his head. "Not a job, my love, a pleasure."

She rolled her eyes. "It figures it would be you."

"You prefer another? I can ask Gerald..."

"No, that's all right. I prefer not to play musical keepers."

He laughed again, delighted by her sarcastic jabs. With a sigh, he became silent and studied her. "Do you wish to see him?"

"Am I safe?"

He nodded. "For a little while. Summer and I will be right here."

"Perfect. Supervised visitation."

He stood, offering her another sympathetic smile. "I will get him."

She watched him leave the room. She was frustrated and angry, and she had no idea what to do with those feelings. She didn't know what to feel or what to do, so she sat where she was, fists balled in her lap, and she waited.


	34. The Tip of the Iceberg

**A/N: Sometimes stories take on a life of their own, turning into something very different from what was originally intended. So it has been with this story. Although some of you may not like the turn it takes with this chapter, all I can say is bear with me and trust that it will all work out. The muse dictates which turn in the road we must take, and I have learned long ago not to ignore the muse...**

* * *

Summer entered the room silently. She knew he was aware of her, but he remained where he was, seated in a chair near the bed, his head buried in his arms. More than anything, she could feel the overwhelming grief and depression that consumed him, tied together neatly with a thick ribbon of guilt. Her heart went out to him. She knew she could relieve his emotional burden, if only he would consent to let her. But he would not...not yet.

She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Finally, he moved his arms and sat up, scrubbing his face with both hands. He looked at her. "What can I do?" he asked miserably.

"All you can do is wait. Once this final phase of her transition is completed, you will see that Ethan and I are right. All of her misplaced anger will dissipate, I promise. We have been through this ourselves. We have brought others through it. Alex blames you for this because you are a safe and convenient target, and she is scared and angry. But that will pass. She will embrace her denizen nature and all will be well. Her outlook on many things will be vastly different." She smiled. "Even her jealousy for me will be gone. With a denizen's outlook on life, many of her attitudes will change."

Summer's promise of change unsettled him. "You don't know her like I do. She didn't ask for this, Summer, and none of you have much experience with what happened to her. Suppose she doesn't embrace her new nature like you say she will? Suppose she spends eternity resenting what she is and resenting me because it happened?"

"She will not. Once she is through this final phase, she will accept what she has become. She may never want to thank Jaron for doing it, but she will accept her fate."

"And what do I do if she rejects me because it was my fault?" He jabbed a finger in the air at her. "And don't give me any crap about being bonded."

Summer sighed. The truth was she was not sure of the status of their bond. The circumstances surrounding Eames' conversion might very well have damaged the bond between them, and Summer feared that it had. No one would know for certain until her transition was complete. "I have no answers for you, dear. All we can do is wait and see."

He was angry and frustrated, and he was scared. She slid off the bed and crouched beside his chair. He looked at her. "I don't know what to do."

She rested her hand on his thigh. "Robert, why won't you let me convert you?"

He looked at his hands, not answering. She watched a single tear escape the corner of his eye and roll down his cheek. Reaching up, she caught it with her finger. "You want it," she whispered. "And we would welcome you. You _belong_ with us. That has been evident from the beginning."

He looked at her, his eyes roaming her pretty face. "She never wanted to be one of you, but now she is, and it's because of me. Suppose she never lets go of that resentment? I don't want to spend forever knowing she can't, uh, she won't forgive me."

She did not know what to say to that. She knew that once her final transition was complete, Eames would think and feel as a denizen, but she could not convince him that her mortal tendency to carry grudges would not be part of her denizen personality. She would see that he was not to blame for Jaron's actions. Bonded or not, she would still love him, and that love would be pure. She placed her hand against his cheek. "She _loves_ you, and that is very powerful. Love transcends resentment; love forgives all transgressions. Whatever happens with your bond, she will still love you."

"You said there is a connection between a denizen and the one who converts him. Will she have that connection with Jaron?"

"Yes, but it will not be a strong one. Most denizens know the ones they convert. At the very least, they share a bond of friendship. Many factors come into play to determine whether the bond remains strong."

"Your bond with Daniel?"

"It remains strong, for many reasons. Ethan, however, seldom has any contact with Sarah, who converted him. Their bond still exists, but it is a weak one."

He rose from his chair and began to pace. His emotional turmoil was keeping her off balance as well. She sat down in the seat he vacated and watched him as he tried to work things out in his head. There were contradictions and inconsistencies that generated more questions, and he wanted answers. "You said Jaron's punishment was to be driven from the community that welcomed him as a denizen."

"That is right."

"So a denizen remains with their 'birth' community, so to speak?"

"Most of us do, yes. We are free to move from one community to another, if we choose, and we are always free to return 'home.' Jaron, however, is now an outcast."

"You and Ethan chose to come into this community as outsiders."

"That is true. Ethan's native community was in England and mine was in Virginia. Most of us learn our new way of life from the denizen who converted us, as I learned from Daniel. Ethan, however, chose to come to Boston, where I met him, instead of remaining in England with Sarah. I taught him all he needed to know to be a denizen, and we have been companions ever since."

"Why didn't you stay in Virginia?"

"I traveled with Daniel until I met Ethan, and I chose to remain with Ethan."

"Ethan doesn't feel...threatened by...by whatever it is we have between us?"

"No. Why should he? We do not commit ourselves to one person, even if we did as mortals. I have had many lovers, including a mortal or two. I prefer Ethan and Daniel, but I may be with anyone I choose. Jealousy does not exist among us."

He was still agitated. "So...what are you doing here with me, Summer?"

"I am keeping you company because I do not think it is good for you to be alone right now."

He was spinning out of control, struggling to come to terms with his emotions. "And what is good for me? What good am I for anyone around me? Look at what happened to her because of me! How do I deal with that?"

She rose and stepped in front of him, placing her palm against his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart, the coarseness of his breathing, the moistness of his shirt, dampened with sweat. "_She_ is good for you, as you are for her. You must believe that. Robert, please...trust me. There is much good in you, but for some reason you struggle to come to terms with it. Why do you refuse to see the good in yourself?"

He looked into her eyes, deeply, which was something he'd avoided in the past. "Why do _you_ ignore the darkness in me?"

She didn't look away. "Because it is of no consequence. Every soul is comprised of darkness and light. What matters is which part dominates, and it is the light that dominates your soul. Yet you have such trouble seeing the good person you are."

He was tired. He was tired of bearing the burdens of his life. He felt a shift in his relationship with Eames, and it scared the hell out of him. He was desperate to feel something, _anything_, that would pull him from the pit of despair into which he'd become mired. He just wanted to feel _good_ for a little while.

Slowly, he closed the short distance between them and brushed his lips over hers, intending to give her a brief kiss. When their lips met, however, something happened.

Everything around them ceased to exist. The world spun in on them as he worked his mouth over hers and pulled her firmly against him. Sliding his tongue past her lips, he ran the tip of it over her fangs. He trembled as he felt a surge of overwhelming desire, and he didn't have the strength or the will to fight it. For the first time, he reached out to her as she had to him, touching her emotional self, and he lost himself in the essence of her.

She could not block herself to him, and she didn't try. He had no idea what he was doing to her, just as he hadn't when he'd unlocked her empathy, setting loose emotions that had long been locked away, too deep for her to access. Rational thought was gone, replaced by something raw and powerful. They were tethered to each other by a thick cable of emotion that would always exist.

Secured within each other, they anchored their emotional connection physically for the first time, and it was unlike anything either had ever experienced. When she sank her fangs into his throat, he fell away into a warm, dark pool of nothing that delivered the most profound and intense sensation of pure pleasure he'd ever felt in his life. He was barely aware of her wrist against his mouth except for the thick fluid that charged him all over again, and then he became blissfully aware of nothing.

* * *

Ethan entered Goren's room and stopped just inside the door. Slowly, he approached the bed, where Summer and Goren lay in each other's arms. He smiled at the sleeping couple and left the room. Returning to Eames, he found her also sleeping, fatigue finally winning the battle over her anger. With a mixture of sympathy and deep affection, he slipped into the bed beside her, drawing her into his arms, and he dozed until sundown. Since Eames was still sleeping deeply, he rose and went to check on Summer and Goren.

Summer was just waking when he entered the room. He smiled at her as she sat up. "It's about time, darling," he said softly. "You have been out for hours."

"How is Alex?"

"She is fine. Her anger exhausted her, and she has been sleeping." Ethan watched her dress. "Did he initiate?"

"Of course he did, but it's not as simple as it seems. Daniel was right. He is destined to be one of us. He desperately wants it, especially now. But...he will not...not until she tells him it's all right."

Ethan looked confused. "Then...what happened here?"

She looked directly at him. "I...I do not know. I have never experienced anything like it. I don't even know how to describe what happened. He...He spins me in circles, Ethan. I do not understand what he does to me."

Ethan smiled. "It was good?"

She shook her head. "Good? Good doesn't even come close to describing it. I don't know a word to describe it. It was...beyond my experience."

"Does it have to do with your empathy, perhaps? Or that connection to him you have sensed since he resurrected your emotions?"

"Yes, all that and more. There is something between us, something that tethers our emotions to one another. He can reach into me without even trying and touch parts of my soul I was not aware existed. I don't quite understand it."

"He is quite unique, the way he has such a profound effect on you."

"I can not explain how he does what he does, and neither can he."

"It's not him, my love, nor is it you. You are like two chemicals, each something individual. When combined, however, an extraordinary transformation takes place and something utterly amazing happens. There is a unique chemistry between you that exists nowhere else."

"I would say that is accurate."

With a sigh, Ethan leaned over and kissed her. "It is sundown. I must go to her. She will waken very soon."

She nodded. "He can talk with her sometime tomorrow. I will see you then."

Ethan looked at Goren, still sleeping, and he sighed. "The sooner he will consent to become one of us, the better it will be for him."

"I know."

He left the room and she sat on the edge of the bed, gently caressing his hair until he began to stir. He rolled onto his back and stretched, opening his eyes. He looked at her, and she smiled. "How do you feel?"

He rested his hand on his chest and gave her a soft smile. "Good."

"What happened?" she asked as she laid her hand over his.

"You're asking me? I thought you were in charge of that ride."

She shook her head slowly. "That has never happened to me before."

He moistened his lips with his tongue. "You mean, that isn't how it's supposed to be?"

"Perhaps it is, between us."

His eyes glowed, almost from within. "If we did it again...would it be...like, like _that_?"

"I would guess that is how it will always be between us."

"And if I become denizen?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. Perhaps it would be more...just..._more_."

He shifted, pushing himself up to sit beside her. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss her, and he felt the same intense charge he'd felt earlier. But he pulled away before it overwhelmed him. Knowing what to expect made it easier to withdraw in time...and much harder. His eyes burned with the fever of a passion she felt as well, but she had it under better control than he did. She felt reassured that whatever had happened, it had happened to them both. She felt like less of an enigma.

She pressed her forehead against the side of his head and closed her eyes. "It's after sundown," he whispered.

"Yes."

"And if I wanted to see her?"

"You will have to wait until morning."

"Ethan?"

"He is with her."

He shifted against her. "Loving her..."

"Yes."

He turned his head toward her. "Because she needs him."

"Yes."

"And I..." He brushed his mouth over hers. "I...need...you..."

She turned toward him, and he kissed her, and this time, he did not pull away

* * *

His body still suffered from blood loss and fatigue, even though Summer energized him. As he rested, he held her in his arms, feeling no more guilt for loving her than he felt guilt for needing air to breathe. He didn't understand it and, for once, he didn't question it. Emotions often remained unfathomable puzzles, and he left it at that. Whatever else she did for him, Summer healed him.

As she held him, she lightly caressed his back, his arms, his chest, and every part of him simply felt _good_. In the quiet dark of the room, she softly spoke. "Did Ethan ever explain to you the circumstances of my conversion?"

"He did."

"The trauma of that incident locked my emotions deep inside, where not even I had access to them. We had always assumed an associated trauma would be what it took to unlock them. They were dead to me, and I still have no idea what you did to resurrect them. I probably never will. I have been a denizen for almost four centuries, and in all that time, my lovers have been denizen. The mortals I was with I felt nothing for, beyond a passing interest. I was with them only once; mortals never interested me. Of my other lovers, only Daniel and Ethan were important to me. From the time I met Ethan, he and Daniel have been my only lovers, until today. Now I can tell you without hesitation that I do feel a deep affection for them both, something that deepens over time. But you...you surpass even them. For you, I have more than affection, more than passion. That is how I feel, and I offer no apology for it."

He leaned in and nuzzled her hair. "Don't apologize for what's in your heart," he murmured into her ear.

She smiled and leaned her head against his. "Another thing that caught me off guard... Always, after loving a man, I have returned to my own bed, even with Ethan and Daniel. I never remained in his bed just...being held like this. It's a new experience for me."

"And? Do you like it?"

"It's never been something I craved or even thought about, but it seems to strengthen the emotional connection we already have. It is comforting and I like it very much."

He smiled and relaxed against the pillows, tightening his arms around her. "So do I," he answered. He breathed softly into her ear. "Do you think it's like this, for Ethan and Alex?"

"I don't think it's like this for anyone else, but Ethan will take care of her. He will be kind and gentle, and he will be passionate, giving her everything she needs, everything she craves. He will satisfy her."

He frowned. "I should be jealous, but I'm not."

"You are denizen enough to dispel jealousy."

"And Alex?"

"It will be the same with her. She will always love you, and I truly believe she will love Ethan as well. He loves her."

"That's what it is to be a denizen?"

"That's a small part of it. What you experience is what they call the tip of the iceberg. Being denizen brings pleasure to every aspect of living. I cannot explain it; you must experience it." She kissed him softly. "Let me finish what I began."

He yearned to say yes, but loyalty forced him to decline her offer-loyalty and fear, the fear of being forced to lived for eternity in the shadow of Eames' anger and rejection. "I can't, Summer. Not until I know she no longer blames me. I can't live forever knowing she resents me. I can't."

"She won't, dearest. None of this is your fault."

"I have to hear it from her, and I have to know she means it."

He rested his head on her chest and she lightly scratched his back. "There is no hurry. We have time."

Comforted by her closeness, he slept.


	35. The Only Way to Save Him

When he woke again, he was alone. Night was approaching. He lay in the bed, arms folded under his head, and he let his mind wander. He was still struggling to figure out the relationships in his life. Everything had gotten so damn complicated. The denizens had set his world on edge and they spun him in tight, dizzying circles. Now, Eames was one of them as well. Her physical transition was complete. The last vestige of her mortality was morphing into whatever drove the denizen mindset. The final weeks of her transition, spent mostly in the arms of her denizen lover, would allow her to finally let go of the mortal emotions and inhibitions that bogged down her soul. According to Ethan, it was liberating, an intense rush of freedom no mortal would ever know. New denizens were passionate and happy, truly happy. "It is like a drug rush that never ends, a high that never crashes," Ethan said.

He was looking forward to seeing Eames in that state. She was as rigidly self-controlled as he was. She never relinquished the control she held onto so tightly, not even when he loved her. He wanted her to make sounds of pure happiness. He wanted to see the fever of unrestrained passion burn in her eyes, unfettered by emotional constraints. He didn't doubt that she loved him, but her rigid, unyielding control, something he suspected was born out of Joe Dutton's death, held her back, prevented her from giving herself to him completely. Although he deeply wanted her to surrender to him, it was not something he ever asked her to do because it was not something that he was capable of doing himself. He would never ask of her what he could not give in return.

As he got out of the bed and pulled on his boxers, his thoughts shifted to Summer, and he felt a glow deep inside him. If emotions could be captured on film, he wondered what they would look like. The pattern of what one felt for others would be as unique for each person as a fingerprint. He knew that he did not feel the same way toward any two people in his life, and that included Summer and Eames. The one thing he steadfastly refused to do was compare the two women. They were night and day to him, and he needed each of them like he needed air and nourishment to live. He couldn't survive without either of them and he wasn't willing to try.

He grabbed a clean pair of boxers and stepped into the hall, instinctively looking toward Eames' room. After some hesitation, he continued in the opposite direction to the bathroom. He felt good, really good. Summer had succeeded in blasting him from his despair. As he closed the bathroom door, he turned his mind inward, and he could feel her. She was content, and he reached out to her for a sample of that contentment. The emotional tie he had to Summer and the reciprocal nature of it was unlike anything he had ever experienced and he was still getting used to it.

He turned on the shower, dropped his boxers and stepped in under the hot spray. Eyes closed, he let the hot water caress his body and relax him. As he focused on the warmth, his mind also began to relax and, for once, a thousand competing thoughts were not spinning through his head.

Focused inward as he was, he didn't feel the brief puff of cool air when the bathroom door opened and closed. He didn't hear the rustle of clothes. He had no idea anyone was in the room with him until he heard the curtain move.

He didn't open his eyes. Her fingers, cool and gentle, traced abstract patterns on his chest. His mouth relaxed into a small smile and his heart began to beat faster. Anticipation built within him and he breathed a little faster. Her hand worked its way slowly to his stomach. He trembled when her nails, instead of the pads of her fingertips, scraped across his skin, and he softly groaned, leaning forward to capture her mouth with his.

Sliding his arms around her, he pressed the length of himself, fully erect, against her, and went weak at the knees when she folded her hand around him and stroked. He groaned into her mouth and deepened the kiss.

Slowly, she moved her mouth from his and kissed her way down his torso. He leaned back against the wall, burying his fingers in her hair. When she actually took him in her mouth, he made a soft noise of surprise. She never really liked giving him blow jobs, and, as much as he enjoyed them, he'd been okay with giving them up. He was willing to give up anything—everything—for her. His surprise fell away as she began to work him over, and he focused on the sensations she was creating. They were very intense, and he wasn't used to them any more, so he climaxed quickly. She slowly worked her way back up to his mouth, giving him time to recover and grow hard again.

Turning off the water, she slipped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. She smiled at him, running her tongue over her lips, and then...she was gone.

"Alex..." he whispered.

She didn't return, so he quickly toweled off and pulled on his boxers. He trotted out into the hall and stopped. Summer's warning hit him like a sledge hammer, jolting him back to sobering reality. _You can't love her. It's too dangerous._

He'd promised. With a soft groan, he returned to his room. He wanted her, badly. But she couldn't control herself and that put him at risk of lethal harm. He couldn't be reckless, like he usually was. Not now. He was confused and uncertain, and he hated feeling that way. So much was beyond his control, and that unsettled him as well. He felt his anger surge, but he had no outlet for it, so he paced.

He heard the door open and figured it was Summer. Just the thought of her helped him to settle. But the hands that touched and caressed his back were not Summer's. "Alex..." he murmured.

"I'm sorry," she said as she placed a kiss in the center of his back, lightly scratching his skin wherever she could reach. He stopped moving and closed his eyes.

She ran her tongue along his spine as she lowered his boxers. He shuddered, turning toward her. She was already completely naked. He stopped for a second, but she continued touching him, stroking, tickling, scratching, and he couldn't think. "Alex..." he repeated, his voice strained as his blood began to heat with desire. "Alex, we...we...we can't..."

He tried to concentrate, but his mind refused to focus and his words faded away, along with his protest. As soon as her mouth touched his, all attempts to control the situation, to respond to reason, to react to the warning that fumbled for attention in his head, evaporated in a flash fire of overpowering, desperate need. Her demanding mouth set a trail of fire from his lips, down his throat, along his collarbone. She nipped his shoulder as she knocked him back onto the bed and straddled his hips. The sharp pain resonated through his body like an electrical charge, splitting to form two focal points, one in his head and the other in his groin. As she settled herself onto him, the fire engulfed him, and she fed it as she moved on him.

She brought him close and then backed off, once, twice... She held him at bay, teasing him as she fanned the fire and drove him to want more. When he attempted to take charge, she punished him with a sharp nip, and the flames burned hotter. When she finally drove him over the edge, his world burst into a firestorm, further fed by her moaning and growling as she shuddered and thrashed and then sank sharp teeth into waiting flesh. The waves crashed over him, pulsating, hot and hard, and the world faded to black.

* * *

He shivered. A soft, familiar voice murmured to him, drawing him from the black cocoon in which he was wrapped. Gently, patiently, she coaxed him to drink the warm broth she offered. He drank and then she withdrew. Forcing his eyes open, he sought her, watching her set the cup on the dresser near the door. She returned to the bed, dressed only in an oversized t-shirt. She laid down beside him and he settled his head on her chest, lightly stroking her thigh.

She kissed his head. "I knew," she whispered. "I felt you begin to fade away, and we had to hurry, before it was too late. You play a very dangerous game, my love."

"I didn't seek her out," he said defensively.

"I know," she answered gently, giving him a tender kiss. "Ethan was late getting to her, so she came to you."

His defensiveness slid away and his hand moved further up her thigh. "I...I tried to say no, but...I couldn't. I...I didn't want to...and she wouldn't let me..."

"She is going to go too far," she warned.

"So when will it be safe for me to love her?"

"It will be awhile. Remember what happened to Warren."

He softly swore. "Summer..."

"I know," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. "I know."

They were not engulfed by an explosion of desire this time. What passed between them was gentle, like waves lapping at the shore of a sheltered bay. He came only once, and then he slept.

* * *

He woke slowly, his mind foggy. He was feeling the effects of losing too much blood, and on some level, he knew that if she came to him again, and she would, it would be for the last time. She wouldn't let him refuse. She clouded his mind and only allowed his desire to surface. It was powerful and he had no will to deny it—or her.

Summer shifted closer to him in her sleep. She would not be able to save him. He had faced his mortality many times, and he wasn't afraid to die. He was, however, afraid of what it would do to Eames. Denizen or not, if she loved him as much as he thought she did, it would be torture for her to live for eternity, knowing that she killed him. There was only one thing he could do, only one way for him to save his own life, to save _her_. He softly kissed Summer awake, gently teasing her to arousal, and he whispered, "Go ahead, Summer. Please..." He fondled her breast and pressed himself against her. She was the only one who could save him. "Convert me."


	36. Minor Setback

Alex rolled over and stretched. Dusk was nearing, her favorite time of the day. As sunset approached, she became more excited, looking forward to seeing Ethan. She found herself, surprisingly, growing more and more fond of him. Rather than resenting him, as she once had, she welcomed him. He was loving and attentive, and she wanted him. For the first time, she understood Goren's intense attraction to Summer. Had she allowed herself to put aside her anger and her prejudice, she would have become attached to him much sooner and welcomed him more readily. Although she wondered how long it had been since she last saw Goren, and although she missed him, she waited eagerly for Ethan.

When the door opened and Ethan came into the room, she was ready for him. He seemed amused by her excitement, but he never belittled her for it. He welcomed her advances, and when he thought she was sated, he proved that she was not. He stayed with her through the night and, as dawn approached, he left her comfortably sleeping.

The intense drive that had engulfed her was beginning to abate and she was feeling more like herself. What remained most strongly was her love for Goren, followed by her attachment to Ethan. Her bitter resentment and her jealousy of Summer were gone. In their place came a contentment she had never known before. Although she remained the same person, so much about her had changed. She began to believe that being a denizen was the best thing that had ever happened to her...after her partner. Each day that passed left her missing him more, but Ethan helped her to deal with her longing, and she needed him.

* * *

The sun was high in the daytime sky and Eames slept deeply. The door to her room opened and closed, and she slept on. She shifted in her bed, moaning softly in her sleep, a response to her dreams, which were welcome since her conversion. Nightmares, it seemed, were a thing of her past. They had no place in her present.

Goren looked down at her, and he smiled as she dreamed. He sat lightly on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch her. She incorporated his touch into her dream, and although her eyes fluttered open and her face lit up with a smile, she remained in her dream. Her fangs remained extended as he continued to gently caress her. "Bobby," she whispered, still convinced he was a dream.

Reaching out, she lightly stroked the healing marks on his throat. He closed his eyes and softly groaned. His breathing quickened, and he leaned down to her, kissing her hard. She responded with abandon.

His teeth were beginning to change, but, although he was not yet far enough in the conversion process for his canines to have fully developed, he knew what he liked and he knew what he wanted. She gave it all to him. Although she had gained more control as her time with Ethan passed, and although it was midday, when her bloodlust was at its weakest, her deep passion for him surpassed both and she lost control. She did not know she had any reason to restrain, and he made no attempt to stop her.

* * *

He came around very slowly to find Summer resting in the bed beside him. He turned over to her, slid his arm around her and kissed her temple. She smiled at him, shaking her head. "You are impossible."

He gave her a sleepy grin. "What makes you say that?"

"Will you listen to me, my love? Really listen and do as I ask?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, okay. Yes."

She ran her fingers along his jawline, studying his face. "If you were not this far along in the process, and if I did not have the connection to you that I have, you would be dead. As it is, you have been unconscious for two days. You can not go to her again, Bobby. Not until the conversion is complete in you. Only then will you be able to handle being with her."

"It's been...a long time. You said she would gain more control over time, and it was noon."

Summer slowly shook her head. "Time of day seems to have no bearing on her passion for you. Although she was fully aware of you this time, she thought she was dreaming. When she is with you, all control seems to leave her. She will love you forever with a passion neither of you has ever felt before, but until you are fully converted, you are in danger."

"How long?"

"We have been through this before. Since few of the rules seem to apply to you, I cannot accurately predict...well, anything. Her conversion took place over months. Although you were already partially converted, even as close as you were to the point of no return, it still takes time to complete the process. Every time you are with her, she weakens you and thus it takes longer because you need time to recover."

"I miss her," he complained.

"I understand your impatience. I honestly do. But I will not lose you." She smiled, a tender loving smile, and she leaned closer to kiss him. "Obviously, I cannot leave you alone. I will not make the same mistake twice. Likewise, Ethan will remain with her."

"We need...babysitters?" he asked, his eyes bright with amusement.

She laughed softly in response to his amusement. "If that's what it takes. Jeremy and Gerard can run his stupid club until you are both fully denizen and you are no longer in danger from her."

Goren's expression changed. "Ethan reopened his club?"

"Weeks ago. After he closed _Lager des Teufel_, he switched his focus to _Schatz des Teufel_. He is in the process of selling the first club and purchasing a new one in Chelsea. _Zeit des Teufel_. Time of the Devil."

"He likes that devil motif."

She laughed again. "Not really, but his patrons do."

He stretched his long frame and settled his head against her chest, turning so he could see her face. "Summer, I...I still can't believe that Alex would harm me."

She poked him in the chest. "You are _so_ stubborn. You are right in that she would never intentionally harm you. But..." She fell silent and studied his features. His expression was open, his eyes bright with desire. She touched his cheek, lightly caressing it. "Bobby, my love, please, listen to me. Listen carefully. When you and Alex come together, your passion is...explosive. You both lose control with each other. There is no way for you to hang onto it. You are bonded and thus are drawn to each other. Your love simply intensifies, well, everything."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought...uh...being bonded... was the same thing..."

She smiled and shook her head. "Love is a separate entity from everything else. Ethan and Alex are bonded without necessarily feeling love, and I do love Ethan, though we are not bonded. But..."

"Whoa...wait a minute. Alex is bonded...to Ethan?"

She moistened her lips and slowly sat up, settling his head in her lap as she leaned back against the pillows in front of the headboard. She stroked his forehead. "There's so much to explain. You will learn over time how it all works. Alex is unique, and not just in your life. It has been a very long time since anyone was converted without consent. Ethan took on the responsibility of completing her full conversion, of getting her through the final transition and being responsible for her as a new denizen, until she learns our ways. We are bonded to the one who converts us, though it is a very different bond than the one you share with her. Ethan and Alex will always be close, but she will always be yours."

He listened to what she said, and he had no problem with Eames' relationship to Ethan. He shifted closer to her and rested his head against her abdomen. She smoothed her hand over his hair. "And what about us?" he asked, looking up at her.

She toyed with a stray curl. "What about us?"

"Do we have...that bond of conversion?"

Her eyes strayed over his face. He had such a loving heart, and she knew it could only bring good to him that he would now be able to open that heart up to others without the fear of being hurt. "Yes. That and more. I do not understand the connection we share, Bobby. I know that it is different than the bond you share with Alex. It is more and it is less. I don't know how to explain it."

"So...my bond with Alex..."

"It's almost as rare. You are bonded through passion, heart to heart. Your love intensifies everything."

He studied her face. "Tell me what you feel."

"I...I can't."

"Why not?"

"Bobby, your path is clear. You are destined to be with her."

"But...you said she also shares a bond with Ethan, and I share one with you. I know what I feel for Alex and where I stand with her. I want to know where I stand with you. I don't know about her, but...I know that I need you. My life...whatever it becomes...cannot be complete without _both_ of you."

She leaned down and brushed her lips over his. "No one will ever force you to choose," she promised.

"How will Alex be with Ethan?"

"Much the way you are with me. When you are not available to her, she can—and will—go to Ethan. You will always be her primary lover, but she will seek out Ethan from time to time, as he will her."

He nodded, open and accepting of that arrangement. "And us, you and me?"

"It will be the same—and different. You and I have a unique relationship, and I simply don't know what to make of it. I don't know what to expect. Not even Daniel could give me any insight."

"You came to get me..."

"We. Ethan and I came to get you...because I knew you were in trouble again. I knew you were with her, though you still are not ready to handle her. She is closer to completing her transition, so she is calmer, until she is with you. Then she loses all control."

"And when I go through the transition?"

"You will be the same, though for you it may be more intense. Her conversion was prolonged and gentle. Yours has not been, so you may respond...with more passion."

"If I go to her...?"

"You won't."

"Then if she comes to me...I won't hurt her?"

"You can't hurt her. She is denizen. But she isn't likely to seek you out, either. She will be through her transition and back in control of herself."

He reached up and touched her cheek. His hand slid along her jaw, then wandered across her throat. He was pleased by her response. "How far did I set myself back?" he asked, his eyes watching the quickening of the pulse at her throat.

"I wish I had answers for your questions. Your strength has returned quickly this time. Perhaps it's not such a big setback. You are as close to transition as you have ever been. Any day now, you will hit the point of no return. I have been watching for it, expecting it. So stop wandering off and let me finish this so you will be denizen. Okay?"

He smiled and shifted to lay beside her in the bed. "Okay," he replied, kissing the side of her neck as he drew her to him.

She responded to his gentle touch, relaxing in his embrace. He was so close to passing the point of no return, she could almost feel it. His moods were no longer dark; he was no longer plagued by depression and regret. He was playful and happy, and she reveled those moods. Within the week, she guessed, if he behaved and caused himself no further setbacks, he would settle into his transitional phase, and he would be denizen.


End file.
